The Status Quo ?

Marmalade-brandy sun

Casts a giant shadow

Across the frost-rocked skies,

Leaves faint gold fairy dust

On December-white grass.

We were guilty of happily

Crossing the blue sun roads,

In cord-bare shoes;

Meeting the electric moons

-the new and the changing –

With a jester’s courtesy

And a sparkle-eyed shake of the head.

Bleeding feet:

All the miles I did for you;

Every stage

You saw me through.

Nothin’ lasts

We’d both agree,

But wasn’t it fun

To run together?

 

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In Chests of Flint

‘Ere dark o’ the sun

Is total, the near-solstice sky flares;

There’s dark honey crystal in the cloudscapes,

Moorland heather petals smeared

On damson jam bubbles and lavender blossom.

Greedy anonymities of grey

Will just as soon steal it all away,

Tuck it jealously away in buried chests of flint.

But it will linger, comfortingly,

Behind my eyelids for a goodly while.

It isn’t all about being somebody,

Sometimes it’s just about

Simply noticing the dying light

… and holding it,

And keeping the faith.

Away? Too Long?

Winter sun:

Remote and angry red,

Boiling its furious route

Through cochineal curdled clouds

Towards the crumbling coping

Of a wall I built

To keep the world at bay.

Didn’t work;

I’m still stumbling along paths

Scratched by anonymous others

Across ghost maps of

Another place I’ll never belong.