blckbird

Remember those who died
fighting for that
which was not theirs
nor ever would or could.
Weep for those distorted faces
lost ambition and empty chairs.
Then pray for those with more to lose
in khaki clothes riding on the roundabout.
Handsome faces in the fair-ground jostle
candyfloss and rifle range
coconuts, children in surprise
laughing with their mothers;
sweethearts slipping to the night
gazing at the stars.

Still again after the fire works
children snug in bed,parents making love,
embers in the parks and gardens
languid sparks rising to the silent night
homeless mouse and hedgehog......
and those the lucky ones.........
who saw the torches coming.

I heard the blackbird in alarm,
saw him on the topary yew
stretching neck and wings
jerking tail, clock work automation
in the summer garden,so quiet until now.
staccato calls to all who listen
defying,sentinel and un-afraid;
so small and black, a golden beak
your only means to fight,
but enough defence it seems
to scare away the cat,
climbing the ivy wall,
and nestlings safe again.

There was one thing about today
from the start it was predictable
well rehearsed as yesterday
and many days before.
Through trees and stiles
passing from the meadow,
the geese and cattle beside the lake
ignored by Jack and ignoring him.
This is a well tried comedy
practised to a fault,
walking in the rain or sun
often on a Monday
kicking through the winding track
deep in blackening leaves,
rooks restless in the cold east wind,
blue tits in the holly,
gloves and boots and home by dark
as will be tomorrow.

Bought a new phone
a set of two
a station on my desk
you know the way.
The other satelite ?
where the hell to put it
They took seven hours to charge
three weeks to enter all my friends
nearly sent it back
but lost the packaging
made today from corn starch
degradable in three weeks!
my mobile was only half the trouble.
Now I wait for friends to call
not a bell all day
when it rang on Tuesday
didn't recognise the tone
they didn't leave a message
IT could have been the gas
BT or the 'lectric,
someone selling glazing
in dulcet erotic persuasions
I fall for every time.
Going for a walk in Wales this afternoon,
inlaws tonight for supper,
then home and one five seven one
to make it all worthwhile.

What did you do at school
I asked.
Drew the alphabet
she said.
watched her draw her name
with greatest care
in her drawing book;
you must understand her style,
she feels the world as once we did
discards sophistication,
before she even knew it.
the "R" the wrong way round
"K" laid on its back
but all made sense,watching
saw the world as she did;
the drawings on the table
signed in felt nib strokes
reds and blues and why not!

The birch leaves fell like tears,
Autumn weeping for lost summer skies
the balm of evenings lit 'til nine
beer,dogs and childrens'laughter,
climbing moorland trails
paddles in sheep lined streams,
curlew calls,hawk and bleating lambs.
Songs of innocence centuries old.
unscripted,rehearsed each dawn.
Ghosts of summer days invade,
crowd me round my little wood,
guide me through the storm
dry my tears with ecloplasmic veils,
join with Autumn's mourning
as she,soon forget
remembering that tomorrow
was but yesterday.

I smelled smoke in the evening air
walked the way as every day
birch leaves crisp and yellow
pine greens and ginger larch.
I stepped the ditch
not trusting the simple bridge
and saw the chimney smoking
to the east from whence I came.
Through the doorless doorway
entered uninvited,never thought to ask.
no door,not for many a year
neither was there window frames.
It was then I saw the candle flicker
on the tree-trunk table,
clay beaker steaming tea.
I quickly turned to leave the hut
felt I was not alone
but a door slammed shut,
never there before, I could not leave
my dog nowhere to be seen.
Again I turned, logs burning in the hearth
orange flame and blackened kettle
saw him sucking on a pipe,
sitting in a Clun-back chair
made from green-wood,bent by calloused hands,
through the spider web of years,
He did not speak; nor I.
He seemed to know me,
we had never met or so I thought
The two who leaned the wall I knew
from another time; lovers from the war
I had intruded once before,
caught them making love one late afternoon
envied their delight.
Had he all these years
shared his home.....why not?
I should leave but could not;
the logs burning in the fire,
were not consumed the candle grew no shorter.
for one brief moment,the old man seemed alive
the lovers warm and smiling,
heavy coats held close,
loved again,as once I saw.
When had they met,these three?
nowhere else to live; nowhere else to go.
I was out of place their world was not of mine;
they turned and stared, held out their hands,
pleading or was it welcome?
faded in the candle light;
a door behind creaked open,
the fresh cool woodland air welcome,
my watch resumed its vigil,
a village clock rang six,
one last glance and they were gone,
as was the chimney smoke.

The nest in the hollow wall
perfect in its symmetry;
empty with success,its work well done
siblings in the garden now
tired parents anxious watch
the cat and magpie and the rat,
children of their own to feed,
think no more of hunting robins
than they of chasing worms.
each day, just like our world
well worth the fight.
Chose with care the conflicts
learn when to retreat and give in,
there is yet another day
learn from robin-red-breast
chirping Christmas Day.

Claire de lune a tune for lovers,
take your rhythm from Debussy,
there is time to count the stars
not yet full, the moon, discrete
hides behind the clouds,
many layers and yours to climb.
Time is all you have.
Time is all you need.
Slow sweet, slow,waste not a moment,
count them all, miss not one.
Nine the summit of your dreams
reach out,count them all,
count them all together.