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White tipped trees

cold coats the land

 

a wedding band

of waiting.

 

Beneath the earth

she sleeps

 

lost child, red

pomegranate seeds

 

her mother wails

& deals with Pluto’s

 

dark demands.

 

White tipped leaves

a life half stolen

 

when summer’s put

to sleep

 

the underworld’s

unwilling Queen

 

we’re calling now

for spring warmth

 

will you re-join us?

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Magnolia blooms

its skirts unfurl

 

on city streets

 

the vivid hue

unzips tight skeins

 

of time

 

& there I am in

spring serene

 

I run with you.

 

It’s days like this

that make death

 

disappear

 

& from a window

lost in time

 

I watch you bend

to turn the earth

 

to snip the rose

all white & gold

 

that will be mine.

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White moon

I’m paper thin

 

torn by your

imaginings.

 

Frosted morning

trees bend

 

crack beneath weight

of iced water.

 

White moon

I’m paper thin

 

struggling to

annunciate

 

my freedom.

 

All those things

you were to me

 

will melt to nothing

by mid-morning.

 

White moon

I’m paper thin

 

touch me &

I’ll disappear

 

like love did.

 

 

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Far from sleep

my owl’s lonely

cry disperses

 

brume across the

sleeping fields:

lost chimney pots

 

I think of you:

my stubborn heart

unfolds its petals

 

carefully.

 

A world unrolls

from fingertip, &

I’m Scheherazade

 

spawning tales

for fools, while

you a songsmith

 

crafts each note:

a spell that I can’t

match unless we

 

match, this last time.

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I light a candle

pink for

Valentine’s:

 

these years

of faces, places,

hands & kisses

 

tears that left us

tossing

in our sleep;

 

here you are

as if the in-betweens

are nothing

 

but a dream.

 

That night

is etched across

the panel

 

of my life,

 

your eyes so dark

your fire became

a living screen

 

for all to see.

 

But you were

never meant for me

nor I for you

 

I knew it then

I know it still

but yet:

 

a silver thread

of chance

has caught us

 

in its complicated

arms.

 

I light a candle

here for you

for Valentine

 

I miss you still.

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Cherry tree

frost tipped

wedding crisp

 

Iris, snowdrop

wait a new birth

field unfolds

 

where kestrel dives

hare reigns, nature’s

order.

 

House groans

shifts February

sleet, snow dent

 

sun kiss spider’s

tangled nest: butterfly

wakes upon my shelf

 

flutters to coloured

chest, a living heart

for new moon’s

 

Valentine.

 

 

 

 

 

(Picasso 1932 Girl before mirror )

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This mirror’s looking

back at me

 

it shows me lines

a fine debris

 

& all that I’ve become

dissolving in the dawn

 

is waiting, waiting,

waiting for renewal.

 

The garden knows my

name, I smell its scent

 

I breathe the warmth

of living earth & know

 

that deep beneath the

crusted crest of winter

 

lies a world that’s waiting

waiting waiting, to renew us.