Tales from the edge of the morning sky

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Blossom (in the Rain)

Blossom 

in the rain, 

falling petals 

of spring 

weeping steel 

and grey 

of winter 

leaving,

For at last, 

wearily 

and closing,

his eyes, 

heavy

and drooping,

shut

as a rumble 

of thunder 

rolls 

Rolls

and echoes,

across 

an early 

darkness, 

the birds 

silenced, 

only raindrops 

dance 

and call, 

to earth, 

and soil

To fall

Into a deeper 

darkness 

of waiting, 

and dreaming 

summer 

and of leaving 

the light 

of dawn 

and day

unfold.

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The tree

Between wind 

and storm, 

sea and sky, 

the tree stood 

through time, 

rock,place, 

roots deep,

bough 

and branch,

stretching high. 

And below, 

his children 

cried,played, 

couples carved, 

hearts,

and kissed, 

through generations 

of footsteps 

in passing,

seasons made.

For then 

as now,

in spring 

the woodland

blossoms, 

with stories

along pathways

all journeys 

true will bring.

And in the passing

of hours,

there is a calling 

from legends, 

magic, life, 

and lore

from ancient trees

for those

who step 

and seek, joy 

and wisdom, 

through nature’s 

open door.

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The Silent Sea

She stood 

beside the sea, 

and watched 

the sky, 

in mirrors 

of waves,

upon the 

golden shore, 

overhead,

the seagulls 

swooped 

and arced,

weaving light 

in invisible 

nets 

of crystal 

geometries, 

the sun slipping 

beyond 

the distance 

and mountains, 

sentinels 

of ancient times, 

and lore.

And upon 

the receding tide, 

ripples of time, 

the dance 

of days 

were written 

in colours, 

silhouettes 

and shadows,

above,

the first stars, 

like wishes 

flickering 

as candles, 

illuminating promises 

from the advancing 

hush of night, 

one first step,

she took.

One step, 

and then 

another, 

and again, 

until further 

she had walked,

into the emptiness 

the spaces 

between there 

and then, 

here and now, 

and left 

this world 

for another, 

the waters 

closing in silence, 

the wings 

of her heavens 

closing, 

into the dusk 

and cold, 

the forever 

at dawn, 

to sing

no more.

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First and Light 

Across the first, 

the light 

of morning, 

beneath the fading 

fall of stars,

April awaits 

through 

the light 

of dawn, 

and grey,

for beyond 

the meadows,

awaits 

the birth 

of life,

of Spring

and today.

For above 

the terrace,

still sleeping,

the early bloom 

of flowers,

a breeze, 

the first 

of summer

lifts the silence 

to hear 

the birdsong 

upon the broken 

brick

and garden wall

to please

They lift 

the hush 

of memories 

summer bidding 

the dream 

of Spring 

to awaken 

and sing

but the morning

is closed

and silent

heeding not 

the summer’s 

cry and call 

to  bring 

For time 

is travelling 

across 

the seasons, 

a measured dance 

of hours 

beyond the valleys 

begins 

the chimes 

the awakening world 

awaits the turn 

and his calling, 

as upon 

the Easter tide 

across the 

quiet city

the echoes 

of church 

and towers,

he sings

As today, 

the earth 

is ready 

and fertile, 

the tress 

in bud 

and bough, 

ready 

for the summer 

sky to hold, 

the wind 

will shake the winter 

overnight

into the deeper sleep

somehow.

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Spring

She was dressed 

in moonlight, 

swathed in stars 

and walked across 

the garden cold, 

For Spring she wore 

and spring she was, 

robed in April 

and early morning gold, 

and though the frost 

was deep, 

the stars bright, 

and the first calls 

of life did sing, 

winter turned again 

towards the east, 

and snow with ice 

he promised to bring, 

but the wind whispered, 

the flowers nodded, 

the river chuckled, 

and the sky 

grew brighter still, 

so winter grumbled 

in thunder across 

the heavens above, 

the clouds gathered, 

pressed and stormed 

in rain, hail

and lightening shrill,

for winter, his time 

had come to depart 

and sleep 

long and deep 

beside the earth, 

in shadows, late

to leave the spring

with the forget-me-not 

of his love 

to keep. 

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Remember Snow?

The dull, 

heavy, 

distant thud 

of morning silence, 

fills the snow 

and fall 

of December 

dark and night, 

for where else, 

can one find 

the dream 

of summer,

than in the falling 

forget me nots 

of snowflakes, 

in the late 

awakening 

of dawn,

and light?

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No (war)

No words tonight,

no clouds, 

no sky, 

no moon 

nor stars 

to guide 

our way, 

just emptiness, 

the wind,

brittle, 

hollow 

with memories, 

life like quicksand 

pulling time 

love, 

and care

away.

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Spring (A Love Song)

Slipping into 

the evening,

darkness 

the moon does rise,

into hidden stars 

and skies, 

I’m missing you 

walking beside me, 

with tears 

of yesterday’s sunlight 

in dewdrops 

of memories, falling 

from my eyes, 

For if beautiful 

was a place, 

it would here 

in the moonlight, 

walking amongst 

the trees, 

hand in hand 

with you, 

winter dreaming 

of sunlight, 

my heart 

quickening 

in wonder, 

the blue 

of April skies, 

the morning 

awakening, 

in love anew, 

For I see the smile, 

hear your laughter, 

your voice singing, 

in the river 

by my side, 

with the bridges, 

promises, 

and starlight, 

the precious hours 

of dawn, 

for all things 

of great loveliness, 

you are 

the reason 

each morning, 

I can awaken, 

and see life 

dancing,

in the mirror 

of your beautiful eyes.

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Morning (Spring?)

I awakened this morning, opened the terrace door, looked out to life, a storm had passed, the sky in ragged edges, the wind still in waves and strong across the tides of sky and empty trees, clutches of daffodils danced and trembled, in choirs of yellow, singing in colours, blind to the hour, and the coming of spring, 

And as I walked along the puddled pathway, overgrown with clumps of grass, the blossoming silence of blue forget-me-nots, my eyes were led to the gap between the tumbling, broken, garden wall, the rambling wild rose, towards the rush of wild waters, the running river, in floods of sky, 

For now is April, the first, of light, of warmth, of the lengthening hours of days, I knew that winter at last, in showers of silver, steel and grey, in life and time, has left beyond the eyes of Spring, her dreams still awakening the kiss of summer, in her dawning eyes of reds and blue, wild, anew, with life ablaze.

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Travels

Strange feelings, 

travelling 

to another home,

through black 

and white 

and monochrome, 

sitting on this train, 

looking out 

across the grey, 

the snow, 

memories falling 

in the hush 

and quiet 

a solitude 

of the past, 

warm in the heart 

of family, outside 

of the deepening 

the winter cold,

somehow, more 

than the feeling 

of passing through, 

station after station, 

other people’s lives 

hurrying quickly by,  

time snaps 

from the heavily laden 

branches, 

of today

freezing in moments,

of wind, snow 

and drifting clouds 

of sunlight 

and shadow, 

flickering at last 

in the majesties 

of rocks, 

cliffs and columns 

of clouds 

in front 

of change

the drifting skies: 

experience slips 

so silently, 

so slowly, 

so softly

away.

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