Poetry | Stories | Photography
Driving along the winding M1
hoping my car will take me home.
Around the bend, the pink lady shines;
a luminous ball rising in the late sky.
The clear pastel sunset and the lady,
constantly moving in and out of view.
They guide me back to the ones I love,
from a world full of money and ladders.
The waning fire smoulders
They gather in the distance
voices from another time
deep shapes move towards the fire
shapeshifting metamorphoses
gather strength outside the circle
waves of gooseflesh stir the spirit
light and drums beat in the distance
from the cursed forest cathedral
within the layers
unwrapping the cabbages
sea salt sparkling leaves
Carrying a spade and a bucket,
towards the clear, shallow pool.
A baby crab kicks up some sand,
and a fish, startled, tries to flee.
Her small hands are not unkind,
for she does not wish them harm.
Running around the crystal pool,
squealing and waving her spade.
Fairies and a forest live on the
walls of the reading book nook,
where imagination takes over.
She sits unencumbered by the
constraints of religion and ideas,
for the ancient ones know her.
Sitting surrounded by stories,
the nook comes alive in the rain,
and the painted forest is alive.
C & K 