I'm excited to share that my poem "Fall on the Campbell River, redux" has been published by the League of Canadian Poets in their chapbook "Splendor of Wings" featuring the works of poets over 65 https://poets.ca/splendor-of-wings/@poets#PoetryCommunity#poetry
Silvery grey
A strong wind
Blows from the west
Slows my progress.
Im on the edge of sunlight
A watery shadow
Moves before me
Stretching out
Over the wall
Over to where
The Curlews call
In soft whispers
To treasures
Hidden in buttercups
Rusty dock and sorrel
Skylarks are singing
Over the yarrow.
And time is flying
Hurtling headlong
Into mid-summer #poetry
And there I was
Complaining
about the strength of the wind
It being the end of May
And all,
And then I noticed
The lustrous leaves
Of my moorland oak
Reaching out to me
As if to say
We've been through worse
Together
I'm inspired
By the tenacity of tree
And the spirit
Of the heart of oak.
The Curlew calls
Her treasures home
And I fly
With the Swallows. #poetry
there are the old tales
of the man who went for smokes
and never returned
as if it was that easy
afraid of laughter
in case it turned showery
caressing with smoke
lungs that gave up long ago
filled with that small joy
and he said, 'fuck it', and went
elsewhere, far beyond
the reach of life's pain and hope
as if his long trail
of lived days led to one choice
as if it wasn't
the weight of so much choosing
that crushed him to a fine dust
snug door
storm trapped outside
the shape of you in the darkness
our bones still humming to the tyres
skin patterned by stitched seats
eyes busy with back projections rolling
hands full wet clothes puddled
somewhere it is morning
there are people on their way to work
this is the stolen place between lies
where we can be true
light switch hidden but not needed
rain picking at the roof
wind wrestling the branches
peace in the darkness
and then they cut you
like you were the pattern bits
and not the pinned-to fabric
defining edges
from where no edges had been
before hungry scissors snipped
