43

This is one warm feeling
I don't give a fig to what others say
To have the beautiful pleasure
A calm, energised, peaceful mind
As the snow falls
And the logs on the wood-burner
Glow
And the music, on the stereo
Is as liquor on curvaceous glass
Is as footprints in soft, warm-wet sand

No remorse, neither escape from nostalgia
To go just wherever that last thought takes me
As if to candy floss at the fairground
As if to that kiss, along the Golden Mile
There is no need to go deeper
All of depth is already in our memory
Or in our projections for the future

Remember Findhorn Foundation
The beach through the forest
Yachts in the bay
Walks to the pub, and to the store
Then the road out to Ullapool
With moorland, mountains
Ponds at the roadside
With deep reflections
Of sun and moon

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42

He threw the signed copy of his book into the desert
The last place where he knew of her whereabouts

I do want to, I don't want to
I will want to, I won't want to
We did want to
Didn't we want to
I may walk, I may not walk
Did we want to walk
Where the last of the waves
Scored the descended flatness of sand

He did want to, he didn't want to
He will want to, he won't want to
They did want to
Didn't they want to
He may walk, he may not walk
Did they want to walk
Where the last of the ridges
Scanned the intended emptiness of land

It is cold, it isn't cold
Snow came, snow didn't come
He wanted to
She wanted to
It was dark, it wasn't dark
Driving in the blizzard
Where the last of the drifts
Shaded the rendered Rio Grande

With the headlights, without the headlights
Into the blizzard, out of the blizzard
Follow the red lights, don't follow the red lights
We did want to
Didn't we want to
I may drive on, I may not drive on
Where the last of the snowstorms
Waved goodbye to the tendered demand

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41

It isn't that I don't want to write
And it isn't that I don't have time to write
I have all the time in the world
Sat in this lay-by, watching the traffic stream by

I could always say that I had had a breakdown
Car breakdown that is, nothing too dramatic
Or I could say that there had been a bad accident
Not that I was involved, but the road was closed

It isn't that I mind telling fibs
And it isn't that I spend my whole life telling fibs
Yes I know I do have whole pockets of deceit
Sat here, under the blue sky, in the warm morning sun

Always a friend of the silver birch
And the maroon aubergine tint to the tops of the hedgerow
Always a friend to the silhouettes of the wizened old trees
Set off by the silver sky, sunlit from the heavens

Yesterday evening, after bathing whilst reading Fante
I thought about brinksmanship
He uses that trick time after time; this time you think
Make her, make her this time, but no, he doesn't make her

He backs off, and you back off with him
Leave me alone he cries, just back off won't you
And that's exactly what you choose to do
Time, after time, after time

You could tell them that you don't feel like it anymore
That you have done your stint
It's time for new blood
Time to let the youngsters have a go, have a right good go

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40

Light turns
My room becomes dark
The fire glows
I am bathed in music
And warmth

Dusk arrives
A little more slowly
As the years change over
I am easy with love
And care

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39

I am alone for a while
I smile into the log fire
Pleased, that folks somewhere
Care for the photos I have posted
If I could play the piano
I would play Ben Fold's The Luckiest
Not that I could sing along
For singing is not my strong suit either
I am not alone anymore
Joined by someone moving boxes
Beginning the tidying, on a Sunday
For visitors arriving, on Thursday

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