Shepherdess III

oh god she is beautiful
tending her flock on the hillside
lighting a bundle of gorse twigs
to see herself through the dark

and inside the abandoned byre
she rests her head on a bed of stars
for this is not the Elysian Fields
this is here and now and forever

and time is a breath

(to read more in this series please click on the Shepherdess tag below)

another poem

there’s a patch of sunlight on the hill
it’s not too far away
the white blades on the new windmill
are slicing up my day

every minute they go round and round
morning, noon and night
I stand in hope and wait spellbound
for a future shiny bright

a poem

the sea was romaine lettuce green
the sky a blueberry blue
the clouds were patterned coffee cream
the boats a lemony hue

the day was bleeding beetroot red
the night black liquorice glue
the moon was buttery brioche bread
the dough of mornings new

that time of year again

it’s that time of year again
when days draw dark curtain evenings
shorter than the nights are long
and words begin to fail me

as does the light from a depleted sun
that barely scratches holes in the clouds
or penetrates my goose pimpled skin
held together with cold reluctance

the birds seem happy enough
I keep them well fed with encouragement
their songs and chatterings valued
more than they could ever know

but still the words fail me
and with it my engagement with the world
easier to huddle down and retreat
when it’s that time of year again