Sunday, 26 April 2015

En Route

Beech trees in the park, not yet copper,
raise a branch to prod the sun,
finger-like ends less arthritic than in winter
still charred.

Down by the crossing, cheery blossom waves
the road ahead clear;
sculptured views past lawns and hedges, potted palms
 take a sudden, sharp descent to the ancient town

Even the stump of the monkey-puzzle tree 
offers no solution
to rust-coated railings, crumbling walls,
shadows sliced long and dark
as the weeds growing up.

Tuesday, 21 April 2015

Escape From the Elephants Nest

I claim pieces of sky for my own,
applaud the shadow 
dancers, contortionists, 
reposition with ease,
limb to limb, limb to wind
moved only by the crack of the whip...
No! The ringmaster is a trickster.
There are no elephants here.