from the tropical north
snow and ice greet a stranger
no racism to be known
a calm freedom
watching the sea_thatch with new eyes
noises so foreign
to appreciate the difference
coming to love the ways of ice and snow
no longer foreign, my home
The Warning
a difference in the weather
unforeseen changes
the moss carpets our land
the wound-starling visits
talkative, we feed our friend
a spectre may haunt us
the sound of horses’ hooves
soldiers on the horizon
we follow our friend to watch
a soldier lights a torch
fire licks and devours our home
our friend remains still
Moss Thoughts
Without a fuss, Autumn arrives
I feel a subtle change
I notice the softening
I wait for a year older
The moss will come for me soon
The Photographs
A quiet gallery
No need for words in this space
the photographs fill the silence
Taken away
Feeling the anemoia pulling me
watching a scene from the past
Loud thoughts
My thoughts are louder than bombs
thundering through my experience
entering as one person,
exiting as another
evolution in the gallery
A Tea Dream
The kettle whistles
your teapot and tea leaves dance
Lid and tea cosy
Dreaming after work
immersed in a Roman Bath
Loving Yorkshire Gold
Tea tickles your thighs
milk, sugar and tea inside
Rosy amber glow
The Shovel
Not one for gardening
you feel compelled to wear Chanel
a showy pearl necklace
An upmarket designer wheelbarrow
bedazzled gold shovel
Odd looks from passing strangers
Memories of our Land
Lightening strikes the old tree;
alone in what once was a forest.
Our lives changed forever that day;
a displaced people, a genocide.
When the wolf arrived, we listened;
we respect the power of the bears.
The settlers didn’t believe our stories;
finery and position were what mattered.
The blood-soaked soil grows corn;
burning fertile fields from a dying planet.
Dragon & Goat
A stirring tail
embers from your yawn
watching me
My soft curls
woolly coat smouldering
overheating
Swept up by your tail
warming you
moisturising your back
We fly towards adventure
a special seat
the dragon and the goat
Constant Witchcraft
Elusive and beautiful
walking away, always walking away
to somewhere distant
A willing receiver of
her witchcraft and the many spells she
casts unwittingly
Touching dewy skin,
forever locked within her jet-pack embrace,
dreaming up a fiction
again
I Remember
I remember the way she moved
Blueberry stained lips
Warm fruit-flavoured skin
A flash of skin on high
Sitting authentically in the sun
Feeling things I could not fathom
Filling me with meadow hopes
Twinkling in the sun and the grey
I remember her on a carefree day
C & K 