Tales from the edge of the morning sky

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Exhalation

Tonight I opened 

the window, 

stepped out,

onto the terrace, 

and heard the last 

of day and life, 

passing in the climb 

and rush 

of a car, 

as it struggled 

up the hill, 

coughing, 

spluttering poison 

into the fragrant 

mournful evening air, 

I turned back 

away from sadness, 

to the twilit garden, 

the path of light 

to spring, 

looked up 

to an Easter moon, 

and higher still 

to the stars 

of early evening, 

for I saw 

a net of light 

and myths 

upon the velvet 

blue of heaven’s sky, 

the moon rose 

softly, a bubble 

of reflecting starlight, 

with a smile, 

a face of wonder, 

the trees stood 

in silhouetted silence, 

the wind, soft 

across the meadows, 

as I heard 

the springtime call 

and cry, 

for there was 

a ripple,

of something moving, 

a shadow, 

a wraith, 

a spirit, over 

and then upon, 

the silver stone 

and glass, 

I felt a peace fall 

across the garden, 

the orchards, 

the sleeping dreams 

of blossom 

and flowers,

as Spring stretched 

awakened from sleep

winter whispered

once and left 

a brief farewell 

at last, to all.

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The Shadow Lion

Like a roar 

winter pounces, 

the clouds 

of March 

torn asunder,

in ragged edges 

of petal, pearls, 

steel

and grey, 

for hail 

bombards 

the treetops,

the fields 

and edges,

abandoned

towns,

frozen in

emptiness,

across the cold

of dawn

and day.

For April 

hides 

behind distant 

mountains, 

her sunlight,

shattered 

in splintered 

shards 

of ice, 

and rain,

for spring 

is held 

in winter’s grip, 

the call

of east

and wind,

until her dream 

kisses 

and awakens,

summer’s blossom 

born to be,

in warmth

and light

again. 

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Cold (and blossoming)

Cold is the frost 

returning, 

across the blossoms 

of early April, 

falling in flakes 

of ice upon 

the frozen 

hardened ground, 

for the wind 

still whispers across 

the morning silence, 

beneath the tree tops, 

standing motionless, 

in ancient times 

profound.

As above their age 

and wisdom, 

the sullen skies 

cover new life, 

in cloaks 

of steel and grey, 

as dawn 

wraps the sun 

in invisible songs 

of springtime, 

as hope rises 

from the distant chime 

of bells and birdsong,  

the birth 

of life

for another day 

And as feathers 

of snow tumble 

from the heavens, 

tickling spring 

in her remembering, 

summer waits 

upon her dreaming, 

the birth,

of summer 

to come 

upon the month 

of May,

in twig and branch

a trembling.

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Does?

Does the moon rise 

or does he sleep, 

slipping from the heavens 

in months to keep, 

for as the cold 

pressed stars, 

turn in myths 

across the skies, 

the earth is hushed 

into stillness, 

her dreams,

enclosed 

in winter’s eyes, 

And so tonight 

above the silver 

the rime 

of frost, 

over church, 

steeple 

and field, 

to succumb 

to sleep 

and dreams, 

I cannot but wait

for morning 

light to yield.

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Coming home (for your love tonight)

He’s coming home,

the day opening 

in skies 

of springtime blue, 

he’s coming home 

across the distance, 

calling your name,

falling into 

the loving arms 

of you.

For it’s been 

a long time,

since the wind 

blew as it did 

today, 

the sun and cloud 

chasing each other 

in joy, 

in laughter,

for he’s 

coming home, 

coming home, 

coming back

this way.

And you know 

how spring 

is blossoming?

With every 

tree,

every life,

lifting the light, 

By morning,

and evening, 

he’ll be by you 

the hearth 

of family, 

in your arms 

so close, 

his whole world,

back in your 

loving arms, 

for he’s coming 

he’s coming home 

coming home,

for your love

tonight.

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With butterfly Wings

Spring 

awakens, 

in butterfly wings 

the slow lift 

of morning,

the thinning 

clouds,

across eastern 

songs

and skies,

the earth

exhales, 

birds soar 

with life, 

space, 

with wind 

colourful cloud, 

blushing 

billowing, 

bursting, 

blossoming 

dreams life 

and summer-

time

Winter hides,

waiting.

Ferociously.

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Snow

A hushed breath 

of morning snow, 

awakens the hope 

for spring.

For who knows 

where the winds 

may blow, 

that tomorrow’s 

dreams may bring?

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Into the grey…

Out of the night

into the early,

the morning,

the cold, 

the lifting dark,

and fading dawn 

and grey, 

the first nod, 

of daffodils, 

hints at rain 

and spring, 

for the daughter 

of summer 

still sleeps 

amongst the silence, 

dreaming 

of kisses 

of sunlight, 

and the opening 

birth 

of May.

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Speak

Speak, 

and hold 

your silence 

to listen 

in return; 

Speak, 

and hear 

your words,

in someone 

else’s heart, 

Speak, 

and understand 

the source 

of your own, 

Speak,

what is in 

your mind,

Listen, closely, 

to the words, 

different 

to your own, 

Listen, to where 

the words 

of other’s 

have come from, 

Listen, 

to understand, 

even if 

you disagree, 

Write words 

that you 

can lean on, 

Write words, 

that cast 

no shadows 

on what 

can still 

be written,

Write your truth, 

knowing 

it is yours,

For Words 

can topple 

governments, 

Words can kill 

the lives 

of millions, 

a single Word 

can change 

a life from dying, 

Words,

are the footsteps 

of consciousness, 

to choose, 

to decide, 

to think, 

to act 

and create, 

Words belong 

to us all

Speak!

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Light (Holding on to Love)

It’s thin here, 

the daylight 

and air, 

not missing you,

from where 

I am looking, 

where you left 

to go away, 

‘cause I feel you 

standing beside me, 

right there, 

right now,

like it was

yesterday

You see 

the sun 

is rising, 

like a big ball 

of love 

across 

the morning 

tides 

and sea, 

as if the sunlight 

in your hair 

never went away,

as if you didn’t

leave behind

your  heart

that was in

me.

Looking back

across the wind

the drifting sand, 

remembering

our footprints, 

where the sky

meets the sea 

where it kept us 

from falling, 

the catch 

of light, 

mirrored

in the waves 

of my memory 

And so where 

I  last saw you 

walking 

on the shore 

the fading shadow 

of our passing 

night whispered 

across the stars 

I need you

I called

to the silence

but I knew then

that I was going 

to be missing you

even more

You see 

time was passing, 

like my fingers, 

in this wind

blown dream

of sand, 

I didn’t think 

not then, 

for I forgot 

to remind myself 

that the days 

would slip 

into years

too quickly 

to understand.

But I knew,

I’d look back 

from this place, 

sometime 

from my future, 

instead

I should have 

looked up, 

seen the gulls 

high and circling 

above,

and crying, 

in the sky 

so changing,

I should have 

held you for longer

kept hold

of your love.

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