Walking to the station lost in thoughts.

A useless collection of ideas and emotions swirl around me,

and I gradually tune out even those.

Leaving a vague existence between aware and asleep.

Time and life drift by and it’s a comfortable place.

Easy

Lazy

Safe

Too Easy.

Arriving at a destination without knowing anything of the time in-between.

That time.  Gone.

W...

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I've been up a forest of gum trees

Got cornered in many a spot

Up the creek is a formality for me

Some of us simply preferred it hot

Often I  swam far out of my depth

Within an inch of deep water

At times had my back against the wall

Loved much but never had son or daughter

Trouble is the thing I was made for

Dire straits always seemed too tame

I loved facin...

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And so it begins. Or ends

The seasons change and as

September dies lies forgotten

Like Summer, Autumn October

Rears. Not misty mellow fruitfullness

With rusty leaf colour bright splashing

Hedgerow and tree russet yellow brown,

Mists that turn to rain and wind and heavy

Rain splashing in the track ruts and puddles

Around the farm;  every field soggy with all the

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Before I go

Let me drink this rich wine

Let me sing my delight

This gold red dawn has promise:

vibrant with the cold sun

vanishing valley mists

leave damp spider web to shimmer

mistdrops on the long reeds

and ungathered lawn leaves

damply shining

against the muted green of wet grass.

This amber morning has perfection:

wonderfully wooded leaf tints

golden...

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I, dreamlost,

wake

to golden leaves of beech

sunlit

from my bed

as airdew clouds over the hedge

rise and vanish

as the eastern horizon above the valley

is lost, sunk

beneath dawndrifts of mist

not yet warmed to fade

beneath the clear blue sky;

the uncut grass of the dew-wet lawn,

droplet bent:

cool promise as

I, barefooted,

explore

the cusp of the...

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There's mist on the Menai

There's geese in the sky

There's snow on the Mountains

As the mist rolls on by

It runs from the Swellies

To the Irish Sea

The mist on the Menai

Majestic and free

From the banks of the Briant

To Caernarfon's great ramparts

To the edge of the Llyn

Hear the Waders and Redstarts

There's mist on the Menai

Not a cloud in the sky

Th...

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MISTY WATERS

Water, smooth as a mirror, shiny as death.

I am the lake, the lake is me.

Are you the mist hovering over

my haunted vision and fractured mind?

Lost am I but bemused by your fragile beauty.

Your cold breath on my face telling me I am alive.

Mist taking me away, quick call my Mother. I’m about to drown.

Moon above, face of my unknown lover.

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DAMP 1

Out walking to where three valleys meet,                                                                                                                                                                                                           past Dovestones, on a drizzly day.                                                                                           ...

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