heather’s song

her hand rests
gentle on the heather
with it’s thousand silent bells
not persuaded by
the unsettled breeze
to give up a song
but a whisper instead
from the sea

always she waits
pinned like a dusty moth
to a promise and a doubt
her hope chasing the lost
fire of a sunset over
the hungry ocean
a devotion to redeem such
joy in her heart again



such a rain
sleeting down
its misty battalions
from a grey
hammered sky

sleuthing through
defenceless streets
it’s whispering rivers
a ruin for some
a hope to others

I could not begin
to stem the tide
and fill the hidden
cracks it seeks
to expose


my eyes must follow
the metalled river
a mirage of ripples
troubled by a northern air
that breaks on my face
a warm breath shy of a slap

and a sister wind pricks
a memory with an offering
of the water’s sweet decay
taking me inwards
taking me backwards
but I cannot stay too long

and must move on as
this silver hushed slip surely will
devoid of her own guideance
she disolves herself with the sea
and taken up as airborne spores
to form and fall and flow again

our winter winds

we’ve heard that winter is coming
who have seen the first buds of spring

soft nubs patiently pushed towards
the promised relief of shared warmth

now hesitant and still
unsure of the strength of the sun

trammeled by winds that will come
to strip the air from a birds song

and char the blades of infant shoots
hard won through a truculent earth

a flattening crystal chill from
empty howling mouths

beasts and braggarts purging
their mishapen hearts