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on the Moon
Around the converted warehousesDown on the river by the old millSummer clocked inOn Saturday nightLiberated from the chillOf the north-easterlyThe people got out to the bars and clubsCelebrated livingA drunk lad cried“It’s the Strawberry Moon!”Floating up over Dragon HallObserving how the phone cameraAlways makes it look smallHe encouraged his friendTo stop a momentTo feed his →
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on reflection
Within towersConstructed fromconcrete, steel and glassEyes focused on screensTracking digitalised dataEars plugged into headsetsAircon’s constant humWater coolers, coffee, carpetsElevators, escalatorsArtificial lightingMoney in the bank OutsideBlue skySun as high as it getsGentle breezeAlong the ThamesAir to breatheGoldfinches sing You choose. ~ CLP 21/06/2024 →
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on the road
There is a spy in the cabA dashboard cameraThe vehicleUses GPSUp thereBehind the blueBetween Earth and MoonSatellites track usMonitor each start and stopBut I still have eyesThat can see the skyMarsh harrier sweeping the fieldsFoxes redder for evening sunDeer stepping through the hedgerowPast rambling rosesBarley, wheat and rows of spudsAnd I still have earsGold finches, →
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on light
There is a white hazeShadowing the northern horizonIt will barely leave us tonightWhile the sullen MoonHas sloped off earlySkulking in the knowledgeThat it is the SunWho we will gather to fete ~ n.b. How have we got this close to the Summer Solstice without any recognisable summer? These past three days are welcome, but small →
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In The Saddle
A moment’s opportunity takenTo get out of the cityAlong the abandoned railwayNorth towards the coastStunted, twisted oaksLining the trailThrow dark shapesThat would confuse a leopardDaggers of sunlightStab blindly through the canopyNo hills to speak offJust a series of steady climbsSoftened by the swirling seaOf feathered barleyA startled pheasantShoots up from the vergeA disturbed hobbyTwists then →
Journey of Words 