The empty stems of the fennel

Under umbrella heads of raindrops

Are perches for the waiting birds

The grey green sage leaves

Glow crystal white in the frost

Moss grows where the branch

Leaves the trunk of the bonsai

Its ruddy leaves falling

Amongst the yellowing leaves

A single crimson rose bud perishes

Yellow leaves have fallen from the dogwood

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The landlord called this morning

Said that she could tell I just woke up. To call her back later.

The cold was different to me, this late morning
Hazy, paired with rain
Drizzled, Murky, Heavy air that swept through the knit of my hoodie.

The branches lay next to the garage in a consecutively non-organized fashion, taken back by hand a few times

 To the old burning pile ...

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And then, suddenly, it was calm - the morning wind which threw

rain hard against the window panes and sent beech leaves rushing

across the grass to pile gold-brown against all that the borders grew,

all slowly dulling their greens to wet, muted browns, brushing

the soil as their leaves curl and droop - vibrant Spring-strength gone,

fading sadly.

                         The wind ...

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Salt and Light

Lofty and proud, the mighty cathedral stands,

grandly waits for its faithful servants

(more on fine days - they're not exactly fervent).

Tourists chatter in, grow quiet in its shadowed womb,

some trace vanishing points among the tombs.

A child holds his mother by the hand.

Distant echoes rebound through quire and transept

as the stained glass kaleid...

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Veering through Northern valleys
Nocturnal nomad chasing lights
Squinting through misty glass at
Solitude
Rural black
Hills rising raucously
Perfidious silhouettes whispering
Shadows looming
GPS. Reroute. M1. 
Settings were fucked - avoid motorways? 
No wonder

Back to the linear path
Diving towards the sprawling metropolis
Hours to go.
Adjusting frequencies -
The Wind Cries Mary.
...

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Precipitation within sight
Rain, drizzle, mizzle
Soft weather, mucky weather
‘The Smoky Smirr o Rain’
Liquid sunshine
Slow words, gentle
But it was spitting this morning
Pitter patter, splash, splish, splodge, squelch
And it bucketed down last night
A torrent,  raining cats and dogs
Not a light soaking rain
Squalling, hailing and sleeting
Flooding, flowing, swamping
A deluge chucking ...

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A cacophony of sound beats around 
inside my brain, deafening drops.

Sunday misery breaking the silence 
of yesterdays. Rainy Mondays, 
no hope for tomorrows.

We come and go. We come and go
when the floodgates of pain are open. 

Forgiveness closes doors 
left ajar in anger. 
Time moves forward, 
changes are subtle, 
inevitable. 

Hope does damage to the living dead. 

Alone in...

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Sometimes a river,
sometimes an ocean, 
a trickle, a flood 
a commotion of emotion.

Stars explode into the sun 
and the moon does run 
undone. 

Midnight blue the sky inside 
passion and desire, 
tornado and lightning 
combined.

Open clouds, 
rain thunders numbers.

Today I burn 
cages and ghosts.
Tomorrow I fade 
to grey absent space.


©JMCole 

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