A moment catches:
scent thrills a heart,
grabs memory in a vice
that denies gut overhang
and aching bones,
never a thing before

are is good
were is heaven

Get that window open!
Go on, do it!

Feel the fat rotation of the planet
throwing a little spring our way
to poke our amygdala
and rattle our dormancy

and sure, we know at the back of minds
a bare faced bait and switch is in play
which means our twitching fingers
will seek to put the big coats in the loft
only with dismay to find the grey frost
return to bite our ***** mid-March

but we can dream and show some ankle
can’t we?

We hold out for this spring
harder than a man who’s lost nine digits
to frostbite
so we can point to where it hurts,
be heard,
aware that we’re linked,
a swarm of warmer hands
that need to hold, to cling, to brace
against this lingering, malingering pain

We’re ready to emerge,
but only together
and while inclement, duplicitous weather
still rages
we’re better, sadly,
caved

Night
a nugget of slide virtuosity
sings clear in the dark
that from the usual velvet hand
somehow has been forgotten

Your brass-burnished touch
has been nothing but felt

Sleep on, whole rest

Cold white numerals
from the Teutonic-honest dash:
9.5°C

Not so cold, I guess
but not the weather to press the button
for the windows to drop

I do while accelerating
too fast for the road,
the fresh air has volume
that angry-loves my tired,
house-cat skin

The wub-wub-wub pulse in my ears
has a cause I control
for once
as the next curve beckons

Sharing a lost freedom
you gave us a fleeting,
distanced touch of colleagues,
friends, your girls

free laughs flowed in honour
til you passed us for the last time
in this grey world
and we choked a little

but even then, the technicolour
of next time rained,
irrepressible as red laughter
and leopard print

I give you this knackered heart
and hold yours in return
as we bumble from supermarket to sofa
and all sweet pointlessnesses in between

the odd flashes of glamour
we submit to, bemused
fuel the common love
of early nights, remote controls
and daft chatter

A spell of bone cold
to remind us that a magic
rules all
our knotted muscles contract
as the frigid air kisses
with wool and other matters
we try to defend