Under sodium streetlights
After turning out time
To the burning candles
With Rosemary's wine
And Ryan's daughter
Through cobbled yards
From smoke filled taverns
To the moonlit passages
Unsteadily happy
Marching along
Summer to winter
Onwards for spring
With four-cornered tables
And buffets with pins
Delicate, I close my eyes
I dare that your scissors snip
With a care that I can see
From the calm of my kindness
Of all the pleasure that you take
I give profoundly, not wanting
Other than for the curls to
Return, soft as next year’s spring
This, that you hold tender
Between thumb and forefinger
With an enquiring touch
Suggestive of wanting
My eyes opened behind me
And slowly I give my all to you
Corrugated tiles full on into the sun
Out of the earth as clay, crushed to dust
Pressed then dressed, fired to a thousand degrees
Now covered in frost, a nice finishing touch
Beyond the ridge, your curtains unopened
Your door with its security chain in place
The still air, unable to tap on your window
Warm breath floats, out among the coldness
The return journey is always a treasure
To settle into warmer skin with drowsy conversation
Home from the night shift, today the kilns are empty
The factory gates closed, one last time
Dust sits on the unfinished wares
The green clay waits
Tonight, and forever
I am hopeful to stay with you
Golden sun, sprinkled frost
Hares with floppy ears
Listen to the morning run
White in the sky, a degree below
Crunches underfoot
Pedestrians passing by
The day is beginning its majestic rise
Out of the darkness
It is a glorious thing
Sands of time, days to ourselves
Breakfast over, cooker cleaned
And it's not yet nine
You arrived too early, again too early
An imposition on the smooth running
Of the organisation
Tempted by the callers message
Truly, you set off
Way too soon
How now to kill
The spot of time
With nowhere to go
No problems to solve
No mind games
To entertain the soul
Each minute thus lasts for hours
A day becomes a lifetime
Your cold feet grow colder
Fingers numb; but still to wait
I hesitate to say that I warned you
But you have done this before
Layers of defences to defend you
Prayers of pretences you pretend you
Darers of suspense still suspend you
In the core, the kernel
Beneath the efficacy
Which needles alone can reach
Soothsayer we lent for you to lean on
Mystic we meant no not to mean on
Pilgrims we sent only to be seen on
In the deep, in the subterranean
In the unfathomable
Which only the needles can reach
Windmill
Barbed wire, broken fences
Irregular stone walls
Set against a blue sky
With a mist of silver bullets
About to pounce, or plummet
Wings of calculated dimensions
Listen to the wind, love her
For her energy, love her for her calm
And on this cold winters day
Love her for the warmth
She brings to those from fallen ground
Turn now and turn again
Show off your wares
Flaunt your infinite beauty
Set against a blue sky
With a drift of silver bullets
About to pounce, or plummet
Load off my mind, unburdened
I try to be kind
For certain
Cheque books I've signed at the final curtain
I try to remind
For certain
Mountains I've climbed from Boston to Burton
I still try to find
For certain
Clay pots to grind when putting the skirt on
I still have desires
For certain
The uneven road twists and turns
No long-shot horizons
Foreshortened views overtaken
The benefit of past experience
While looking backwards
Disturbs the forward thinking
Year on year, generation after generation
Only chance changes
The significant outcomes
That, and the determination
The will to win, the desire to succeed
Even against adversity
The uneven road
Sympathetically
Follows the contours
Of natures curvature
Therein lies her hidden beauty
Her undiscovered depths
