A tree sunk and lost in

a well, its roots descending

in the back waters

Like many afternoons the garden lay beneath grey clouds,

its surface gently slopping towards one side and in the higher corner

a tree, bent from birth, outstretched branches bowing towards the north.

Death had many monuments in this garden – the brown sticks strewn among the green,

pale curled leaves in flocks, blood let trunks, and trees, hard and vacant.

Beyond the border of grey fence, a line of bushes, their leaves

scarcely green, preparing for the dry of summer.

Through the garden the wind blew, for the most unhindered

by these pillars of mortality. In some corners the cloud was broken

by a pale blue mirror like spring ice.

First rain

grass stalks with droplets

cool breeze

branches of a fig tree patterned with wet

moving ants

bird calls in trees

dog steps in the shed

traffic further off

at times wind

my breath

a darkening feeling

A field of fallen sleeping snow

and snowflakes, tiny ice jewels,

spiralling, touching the ground

with child’s feet,

suspended on twigs,

catching light in their eyes,

so I wait the season of dying.

I call on your name

be with me through the night

Still the liquid form of terror

in your name. Hold my

frail frame and belly

and break the roots of darkness

rising in my soul like

a haunted ancestral house

O break the roots that

pour the sap of fear

within my bones

and free me from

the hand of night which lifts me

as a floating cloud

Join my flesh and bones

and soul and spirit

to the vine

Tie me with your mighty

chords to the rock

Come quickly

A streak of cloud passed over the trees

the eye looked on solitude

and darkness

Wilting light and the shadow of a bird.

The trees rest on their upward journey.

At their peaks are crowns of leaves and cloud.

The sky is a blue kilm, fired by the sun.

Like a crystal arc it takes the light

and changes it to water.

Through the fields of wheat

the light of three shooting stars

left their trails like water.

The insects buzzed as evening

grew towards morning.

The sheaves grew full,

the clouds sparkled.

love comes

like gentle rain

listen

life is drinking

A sheet of sea,

glimmering fire on its surface

turning to ashes in its blue depths,

the hills overlook, rounded against the sky,

sloping its heart into the burning waves.