Sunday, 13 March 2016

DON'T YOU JUST








Don't you just
love days
that flower
full of song
and lack regret?
The ones where
you awaken,
as if
still dreaming,
inexplicably
delighted?
You stay
still,
hold your
breath,
listen
hard before
you ease
like Sol into
the shining sky.

No words
can portray
days like these,
none adequately
explain
the gift
of them,
a present you
construe
ephemeral.

Wonder
how to
transform
into something
permanent.
Know
the folly of
trying to
objectify
or water
flowers unreal;
the wilting
of dreams
other
than lovely.



Friday, 11 March 2016

WEATHERED UNDER












(in memory of Farley, the wolf - died 2015)

How difficult to say the truth
You know the way it is
Your beloved pet - a soul-mate who
shared your life for decades:
more than two
Became ill, weary of living, had to
be put to sleep yesterday

But when someone asks you how
you're doing, how you are ...
You say - oh, not too bad
Or - I've been better -or, covering
your pain with a pseudo-ailment
I'm a bit under-the-weather today

Nothing serious, your friend hopes
and you reply, you're sure not
Probably just the twenty-four hour
flu - not to worry - and you hurry off
Just making it back to your car
to hunch over the steering wheel
as you let grief pour from your eyes.