sounds pleasant to have a river so close

ours is nearby
down the lane past the bamboo

and prehistoric plants
the land that time forgot

yours is nearer and I imagine
your view and the little oak

yesterday

i went to blaenau in the rain
you may google that so best
add ffestiniog to the name

i saw the garden with all the birds

i have two oak trees grown tall
now

sheltering and strong in a storm
i stand on the doorway to watch

the branches thrash

you will miss the swallows I am sure
it is best we look after the birds and
other creatures while we can james

yet seems from what you say that some
don’t bother

my scope is limited now
yet it comes enough for
me

beauty spots were once to adorn
the face
maybe
hide the imperfections

In the evening comes the dim light, the swooping away of day,
the blue, gray clouds, the turbulent air of wild birds
small specs, black and disappearing.
After awhile only quiet,
and then a certain silence settles in
it moves like fog, alongside the moon
it comes cold, blanketing the soul
a depth of space unknown
a well of darkness, undiscovered
the losing of this day, this light
and in the long, lingering hours
dwelling in the dark caved places
touching the soul and flooding the heart
the crashing waves will come
to break one wildly apart.

In this park there are birds atop ice cakes
stiff mittened kids, cold nosed and half froze
they slide on paths of glass, toward home.
A small stream cuts through this place,
black water humming with coots and ducks.
Long toothed icicles waiting to impale the earth.
Beneath our feet, we crack and shatter tiny frozen ponds,
revealing muddied blades of grass, green as in summer.
A myriad of birds in the sun, come to puff and quiver,
but soon the mountain clouds will come to shroud
the day, the sky so cold, a frost in grey and silver.

With crying seagulls, salt tears of spraying seas
this rugged coast of obelisk ancient stones
black blowing reign of squall and fury
the swallowing of sand and shore
tonight a ghost, a murmur of moon
the pitch grows ever darker
fretful wrath of wild ocean
awaits the calm to come,
the bright startle of
tomorrow.