Young birds out training –
Under a fingernail moon ~
Flying sideways eights.
Gaze up at infinity –
The cat, distracted by grass.
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Snails in old plastic –
My Grandma would have killed them ~
I don’t have the heart.
New plastic bottle snail home –
She’s smiling, shaking her head.
Magnolia blooms –
My Mother’s garden renews ~
‘Sure that soil is spent’
Her mother famously said –
She was gloriously wrong.
Rusticated walls –
Wood posing as stone, falseness ~
Most unlike the man.
The farm, the garden in bloom ~
Here he is, feeding the world.
You taught violin –
Shafts of light in the school day ~
Sister among boys –
I think we were your children –
and I want to thank you now.
Post flight, wait for bags –
The carousel, they arrive ~
Old nun, beside him.
He stays to help her with hers –
Why do we do that? Strange beasts.
Trudging Oakley Road –
Heavy bags cutting fingers ~
Recalls student days.
Housewarming a friend’s new home ~
Much the same, much also changed.
Once, we were hunting –
Two taken down ~ second lost –
Lost in the bracken.
It was down, deserved honour –
Boy, driven mad seeking it.
Arranging three shapes –
Neutral ~ outline form, shadow ~
Red green, yellow green…
Fill in the blue white background –
Only now, ready to paint.
