Tuesday, 26 April 2016

In silence we hear so much




Silence

when a motorbike stops

in the early hours~

or when a baby stops crying.

Silence, when words  can say 

no more.

The  sea

when seagulls fly

against the wind.

After a snowfall,

that quiet.


Last night when you came home

I imagined you smelled of wildlfowers 
and little birds.

I was silent.

Happy,
silent.




Saturday, 16 April 2016

April



rain ~
showers ~
and sometimes,
sun.

Then
( and only then)
I'll sit in our front room
wrapping cold fingers
around a steaming cup of coffee
and watch,
as the world walks past.

The crazy cat lady
who lives down our road
scurries by
talking to her imaginary friend.

How everything gleams
in this early morning light!
The rust red rooftops
the silver glint of a seagull's wings
as it flies silently by

I quietly say my prayers
for a little girl
just new to this April world
her name
magical,
falling from my lips.


Now
through the glass
I see the tops of the trees

their glittering leaves
shining with the remnants

of an April shower.


I rise,

I leave the room.


And dream.



Sunday, 28 February 2016

Blessings, all.







The winter sun

a balm for weary souls
from whom,

darkness stole
the light.

Golden fingers
stretching across fields
and down
long hidden roads

stealing in
through our windows
and drenching
the tulips
with love.

Hope.

Love.

Grace.

Mercy.

I've been soaked in them all.

The love of friends far and near

( Kathryn )

Daydreams.

Books.

Warm coffee cup in my hands.

Winter,

winter sun.

Blessings, all.


Saturday, 20 February 2016

Occupation, shop assistant










I stared at the patient's chart.

Just after another patient had hurt me.

Badly.

I have the bruises to prove it.


Occupation, shop assistant.

Day
after day
we care
we give
to every occupation ~
every walk of life.

And sometimes,
whatever the occupation,
they hurt us.

So when weekend comes
and a drive into the country to see our son
becomes a haven of
wonderful soup and homemade bread
smiles and hugs
and the mystery of
squeezing all that beauty
into words~

the vapour trails
of planes flying through
the first blue sky
of the week~

choral music ,
coffee and croissants
red lipstick that everyone said I suited..
white bells of snowdrops
and crocuses
bursting through with soft green spears

oh~ the mystery.

Occupation, Nurse.


Friday, 5 February 2016

Borrowed dreams







It took awhile

all that untangling from
January

the naked fields
with only the moonlight
to cover them.

My dreams
( always borrowed)

got pushed into the button box
as I dealt with things ~
to sacred to speak of,
here.

I was soaked
to the skin

and yet

all the while

those dreams

of the hills

wearing white

softly,

softly~

on

their

shoulders.

Saturday, 9 January 2016

The house with the little yellow door






Oh,

I had the words.

The ones for Christmas.
About Christmas.

Then  the ones about
New Year.

You know,
all that stuff
about a new page and so on.

As ever,
life decided to throw a bottle of ink
all over them.

I looked January full in the face
and listened again
for music in the storm blown trees.

Watched for the gold spun winter sun
that hangs low over the fields.

We marked our lives with little cups of coffee
and tea
as the globe twirled madly on.

What strange creatures we are

dancing into this new year

and driving past

the house,

with the little yellow door.





Wednesday, 23 December 2015

December 23rd 2015









Crowds everywhere
as if the world might end
because the shops are closed,
for one day.

All of us during this season
turning into some sort of Magi

bringing our  gifts,
whatever they may be.

The cathedral in my heart 
is full of music
and my mind soars away, 
away over the chimney pots
with wisps of spiralling smoke
to escape the 
human wave , 
heavy with parcels.

Why don't they stop, 
I think ~ 
just for one minute
to sniff the smell of mandarins
and  cloves 

to look beyond 
and find that

He who comes is a beautiful mystery.

Through the dark mist 
of many mornings 

look..

see the silent shape
wrapped in a shawl

who,
looking upward ~

sees it there.

A star.




~::~  Have a blessed Christmas , everyone. 
To all the silent souls who come here and read my faltering words, 
I appreciate it :) .
And to the one who always comments, 
thank you. 
( You know who you are :)

But most of all,

To * The One*

who loved us enough
to come to earth for us


My heart , is always yours.