Short day

Short day


The leaves curl

Their lips around the lisp of decay

Mottled browns and yellows in fade

Pressed like newsprint into the path

And twisted into submissive shapes

By the soles of walkers

Their pets far ahead, noses in fragrance

Raking and sniffing for ripeness

A place to pee, scratch and move-on



Light so grey and low

It will not go dull but turn fast to night

Receiving street lights and car beams

Revealing blurred ambient figures

Distortions. Pallid offerings that roam

On some apparent business

Though in truth it is only early

So that more of the day

Could be precious



Vital Signs

A chorus

I wake early on tangled sheets
To hear the clamorous rancour
Of crows darkly calling
‘We are. We are.’
All guttural threat from securely held territory
Their certainty. Their belligerence
Reminding me of war mongers
Politicians on podiums
And electorates too timid
Or too stupid
To complain
How the world order seems fragile to me
It has disturbed my sleep
So I wonder if softer words
Can be sent to march
Cast upon zephyrs
And made to influence
Minds that celebrate harmony
Prone to extract the ‘r’ from friction
And become characters in a global book
To hum and sing
Forget to shout
‘We are. We are’
As a territorial threat
But a hymn
For it could even be
A lullaby

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A magnificent rant

Full of bile. Malodourous

Extruded hate

Desperate. Drink fuelled confusion

Committed to air by pressing ‘send’

And sealing a toxic mistake to history

From down there in the deeply dark

Out now to fester. A lingering testamony

To a failed state

Always to hover and float

In a memory alert to casual triggers

So, will there be, debris

Some reciprocal ache

Some collateral damage

A stain left from the rancour

Or will I see sense

Forgive and forget

Grow a little as I toast my luck

Because in this small episode

My conscience is clear