Tag Archives: poem

The Big Picture


layers of ages

consequence of sun and weather

earth bleeding layers of oil

consequence of us


photo courtesy of Jim Waldron


Filed under Haiku, Poetry, Uncategorized

Kuai / Break-through


Thunderheads rising           riding blue streams 

on grey, chasing invisible dreams and destinies

seeking indigo mountains past rivered foothills


All the while  an egret stands – brilliant white 

in sun – goldened light,  legs deep  in verdant 

grass meadows,  oblivious of gathering storm



Filed under Poetry, Uncategorized

Home Breath


Soon I’ll be home – for sixteen days. Now, waiting, waiting…

Exmoor keeps rising in my brain, like the boggy peat puddles that fill and spill down meadowed hills with sheep’s-bum valleys of oak and beech, and weeps into the River Barle.

There I straddled the sycamore branch, its outstretched arm reaching half way across the river, where I lay with face against rough bark and gazed upon water – liquid pewter running – reflecting the heavy sky, guarding river’s mystery and depth.

Whether bird or wind or hand of god parted the weighted clouds, I don’t know. But fingers of sun broke through, touched the river, dissolving pewter and turned it into rolling glass. Beneath – a trout hovered – facing upstream, fishing, tail swishing, side to side, waiting, waiting, shimmering in place as it hunted its dinner with patience. All the time the fish was there, but I unaware, until the sun revealed him.

Too soon, the sun slipped behind mist and lost the light; gone like a child’s fingers into a sleeve, leaving me on that tree in the dark afternoon, gazing at liquid pewter again, unable to see into depths where the trout still hunted his dinner. Only now, I knew he was there. 

Soon.  Soon, for sixteen glorious days, I will go home and breathe, breathe, breathe again.


Filed under Poetry, Uncategorized

My Daughter’s Face

Curled dogwood blossoms fade

from pink to mottled peach.

Light, that shone from within,

like the glow on your skin

when you lay swaddled at my breast,

sits heavy on leathery petals.

In shy retreat they greet the hardening sun,

browning at edges, older, wiser and ready

to begin feast of wind, bee and pollen.

Germination into seed, freed into earth.

Thrusting through seasoned mulch,

three dicotyledon sprouts, their flesh

fresh and green, like your children

reaching for sun and space,

thirsty for growth and claiming depth,

determined to make

blushing pink.


Filed under Poetry, Uncategorized