Broch

Stone by painful stone
we built our
wall
Then stood appalled and watched
the scaffold
fall
around our dreams.

Shuddering it stands
our tender
life
What can withstand the storm-
encountered
strife
if not our dreams?

After the storm

In the rain-green park
dogs and children run
released,
the trees drip
sunshine

Elderflower is warm-
scented
and I dance slowly -
Billie Holliday
in my mind

.. because I cannot..

I write because I cannot dance
the things I want to say -
the wings upon my heels are words
birds
taking flights of fancy where
my body cannot follow..

Walk in the park

Sunshine-stripy picnic rugs,
a straw-boatered  band to jazz our afternoon,
a gallant couple jive,
insouciant dogs posture
and children play

overhead
unconcerned
the yellow bi-plane is a toy
in the blue Sunday sky

Old linen jacket

At night I walk my childhood streets
again
and suddenly by day I turn
in vain
because I thought I heard you speak
my name
or then because his shoulders stooped
the same...

Early walk

Cool beechwood morning
dappled green and gold sunshine
and birdsong all mine