Uncommon Things

A small ash tray from Siam,
brass, shaped like a slipper
he kept this tiny shoe
and a letter from his mother.

‘Dearest Johnny Boy,
Rose was here,
the weather was rainy
we all felt blue.
stay safe.’

Written on onion skin paper
with two 3 cent airmail stamps.

A handful of Zippo lighters,
gold and sapphire cuff links,
a linen and lace handkerchief.

A love letter written to my father
by my mother before their marriage.
The longing of a young woman,
her plea for a letter in return,
her hope of a happy life
with a young man.

‘I can’t wait to be in your arms’
written on onion skin paper
with two 3 cent airmail stamps.

he kisses me

bob on his bday

he kisses me
absentmindedly
as if he has better things to do

distracted by whatever
is in the foreword of his inner workings
tick tocking behind his blue eyes (those eyes!)

sketching plans on invisible whims
to catch the first train out of the station
riding heady currents of his singular thoughts

he has slept in my bed
for a thousand years
dreaming things
that have nothing to do with me

what has love got to do with it

everything

second loneliness

Dogwoods on Easter 2

It has been an unusual Lent
to say the least
The devotional has been an old one I came across
of Henri Nouwen’s from Mt Vernon
on the Prodigal Son

I am broken open
this Lent
by this old story, this parable of a wayward child
and his truculent brother and loving father

I think of his mother and her fear for her younger son
and the weariness of that sad fear.
The relief and busy-ness of killing
the fabled fatted calf for a celebration and readying for guests,
trying to assuage her eldest sons pouts and consternation,
when all she wants to do is sit quietly
in her chair and be happy her son is home.

And I wonder if those thirty six righteous men are working
their asses off researching the vaccine to save humanity.
Or if they are wandering from place to stay-in-place,
just trying to find a soft chair to sit in
and a cold glass of water to drink.

Its all that ‘second loneliness’ that broke my chest open.
All that second loneliness for the world in all its pain and beauty
All that second loneliness in isolation
All this second loneliness, Lent 2020

april

spring ridge

With reckless abandon, Spring sweeps in
drifting acid green pollen in her wake.
She scorns the late winters chill
riding bareback and bare footed
into the robin egged morning.
What joie de vivre!
What carpe diem!
What sweet mysteries of bloom and bud
are whispered from her tulip petaled mouth!
She dazzles the bees, drunk
with their golden wares
all knapsacked to spill before their queen.

evening walk

March evening storm

the small dog and I out
for a late evening walk, stopped
by the sound of a thousand wings

starlings in their blessed murmuration
whir and whirl in temptations of flight
and chaos, a perfect holy vision

of angels

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amazing starlings murmuration (full HD) -www.keepturningleft.co.uk http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eakKfY5aHmY&feature=share via @youtube