Train

Hear the zing from the ring of the bell
Hear the squeal of the iron wheel on the steel rail
Hear the lark of the crowds as they disembark

For a day at the seaside

Hear the soft roar of the tide
Hear the collide of the last of the seven waves
Hear the sound of the shift of the sand
As it fills in the shapes of your footprints

Listen to the whistle
Listen to the diesel engines acceleration
Listen to the slowly fading sounds of departure

After a day at the seaside

Listen to the lonely sound of the unloved gulls
Listen to the twilight tennis balls on slowed down racquets
Listen to the cry of the wee-baern
As he searches for his sleep

Home now wherever home might be
Memories then
For whenever memories might then be needed

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Sauna

A few more words before the sauna
Perhaps something
About spas and similar leisure activities
Even to recollect the full body massage
And the flotation tank experience

Yet out there
Beyond the balcony
Beyond the tennis courts
Beyond the ice cream parlour

Yes out there
The pristine golden sands
The azure blue sea
So many shades of the Atlantic Ocean

Before the horizon
That thin line of Prussian blue
Which seems to say by definition
Yes now is the time
Take up your trunks and go sauna

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Earnest

I wait for the crowds to disperse
I wait for the guide to calm her enthusiasm
I wait for the girls from Wakefield
To stop talking about the girl from Wakefield

Yet in these few moments of observation
And the writing up of those observations
The crowds are back and the children
Who were so peacefully serene in the garden

Are now told not to touch
Do not touch boys
Boys sit down sit quietly
Take out your drawing books boys

And begin to sketch the works
Sketch what you feel about the works
By the girl from Wakefield
The girl from Wakefield Girls High School

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Anew

I came here again today
To see your sculptures in the garden
To see your words and photographs in the gallery
To see your tools and your templates in your workshop
To see your tiny bed and to see the schoolchildren
Using your immensely varied body of work
For their day of inspiration and sketches

And then I saw the Abutilon leaf floating
In the rain filled bowl of your River Form
It had been blown in by the breeze from
The tree further up the banking
The whole thing looks settled now
And I would especially like you
To know that so am I

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Here

Yes here
Here in the Barbara Hepworth
Sculpture Garden in St Ives

Sat yes sat
Sat on the white seat
By the white table with the blue umbrella

Which shades the light and which will
Will most certainly
Provide shelter from the certain showers

Meanwhile I sit and peek
Peek through the arcs
And the domes and the spheres

Looking as if hearing
As if hearing a symphony playing
Before a lady from my old school in Penistone

Sits down beside me
And asks quietly
For any news of my older brother

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