Winter is again upon me,
I stand at the window
and stare through scenes
of frost and falling snow.

An ache ascends through,
knotting from a dark core,
rising up like a free spirit
congealing lumpen in my throat.

I feel the chill creeping,
rub my arms and shudder,
the fire is burning so low,
and my eyes see dying embers.

The desire to stoke is dulled,
by apathy frozen in time,
my eyes turn to stare
through frost and falling snow.

1.
Nervous, her senses open and ready,
sitting in the shadows on full alert.
Her cubs are playing at hunting
and the ***** is seriously being mother.
They tumble and roll in the dust,
career and jump through the grass.
And she just waits for danger,
any sign that all is not well.
There is a crash and noisome grinding
as two cars collide on the main road.
She cannot see through the wooden panels
but the sound has her really spooked,
so she issues out a short bark
calling her cubs to run and hide.
They are soon away and gone
and a rat darts across the waste land.


2.
I bet you all know cone man.
He is the focused possessive  type.
He makes sure that his cones are straight
and in the correct position to work.
You see cone man is the obsessive fool
that puts out cones on the street.
He forgets that his property stops at his gate,
that the road belongs to everyone.
But he must have his own parking space,
his self-righteous right to park outside his home.
I wonder if he is aware?
Aware that he is breaking the law.
Private individuals are not licensed
to place cones out on the public highway.
Of course he is not aware.
He is to wrapped up in his ownership delusion.

3.
Kink. There is a kink in the hose.
That is what she should be told.
No! Don't point the nozzle at your face.
How can anyone be so stupid?
She eventually sees the kink and twists it.
The freed water erupts forcefully,
it soaks her slippered foot.
Seemingly uncaring or unaware
she starts on the climbing rose
and the cultivated bluebells beneath.
Slowly she waters the borders
then turns to look at the pots of flowers,
arranged with planters and an old sink
on the ancient cracked paving slabs.
Again the water subsides to a dribble.
Kink. There is a kink in the hose.

4.
He was running down the street.
Panic and fear on his face.
He was about to learn a hard lesson.
That selling drugs on the street
is a prison sentence waiting to happen.
The chasing blue light and siren
screeches up and stops with a bang.
He hops over a low wall
and realises that he is now cornered.
He makes a bold effort to run
so gets firmly pinned down on the grass.
The men in blue arrest him
and he is led back to the pavement.
The police car cannot move
its tyre had hit the kerb and punctured.
The suspect is taken away by another car
and disappears off into the justice system.
A lone officer is left and taps at his phone
casually leaning on the crippled cars bonnet.

I remember April.
Like a month of Sundays in the 1970's,
because Time lacked function,
passing more or less unnoticed.

I remember War.
Local violence in the aisles of consumerism,
because paper was currency,
passing more or less casually.

I remember Skies.
Crystal clear blue with no blemish,
because Nature stepped up,
passing more or less unfettered.

I remember Peace.
Like peace had never been known before,
because quiet reigned supreme,
passing more or less silently.

I remember Me.
Emerging from fog into a new world,
because I felt completely lost,
passing more or less phantomly.

I remember April.
Like dark nights of eternity in a coffin,
because Time didn't move,
passing more or less unnoticed.


(Sept '20 & Oct '23)