memories taste

like snowflakes on my tongue

and melt in my soul

love remains

like ice on the garden pond

in the memory of water

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Long!

Long I laboured

through the seasons

through the years

working

on the plot:

delighting

as digging blistered my palms

and the soil grew fertile

as digging pained my back

and plants grew strong -

grew verdant

beside the deep dug pond

with its little stream

where I placed fish

an unplanned golden feast for a heron

and an otter

And as e...

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He watched the leaves float

in the pond

windmoving on the surface

drop-pitted by rain,

leaves, orange-brown against the black depths

He watched the leaves stick

to the patio

wetgluing to the slate

slickened by the storm,

leaves, orange-brown against the black stone

He watched the leaves move

on the trees

wildwaving off the branches

leafstripped by t...

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The thick ice on the pond is dimpled on its face:

The same snow that coated the field

Had landed on the frozen pool to yield

To ice its fragile beauty and feather grace

As dents

Body gone, only the skeleton of the snow is left:

The same snow that covered all around

Has lost its substance to the earthy mound

But dull white bones still haunt Spring's heft

As wraiths

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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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