Swinging rhythmically; bloated and unsteady,
He nudges at the doorway of his desire,
And descends into darkness,
Carrying his heavy load of lust.

Beyond the bottleneck,
From where warmth and light beckon,
He hears the trill of girlish laughter,
The sound of sanctuary at play.

Pausing briefly; head cocked to one side,
He sighs with resignation,
Deposits his craving clumsily,
And withdraws deflated and defeated.

Once again.

A swathe of green awash,
With mourning dew;
Soaks the toes of my shoes,
Bearing witness to my passing,
As I bear witness to the passing of others.

And if you are in any doubt as to your ability,
To effect a change upon this world,
Look no further than a pool of rock water,
Disturbed by a single drop of rain.

Now imagine a torrent.

Flavia swore as the heavy earthenware pitcher slipped from her hands and crashed onto the uneven flagstones. As she knelt in the puddle of tepid water and started gathering in the pieces, she heard the rapidly approaching footfall of an armed legionary.

‘Leave that now, there’s no time. We ride for York immediately.’
‘But mea domina...’
‘The Wall is breached. Hurry, puella, or she'll start without you!’

Flavia picked up her sodden skirts and ran.

                                                           ­  §

I held my breath as the last piece of the Corbridge ewer slid smoothly into place and wondered at the exquisitely crafted motif which encircled the body of this ancient vessel. A procession? A cavalcade? Curious, if not for the men-at-arms, I would have thought it a pageant. And there in a covered wagon a noble woman looking back at a young girl standing on the steps of a villa holding her hem in her hands.

'My life is over, it’s completely over!'
My granddaughter sobs inconsolably into my best linen handkerchief.
‘I’ve made s-o-oo many mistakes. Why can’t things be the way they used to be?’
She clutches at my gnarled liver-spotted hand, with its swollen joints, and old gold.
‘You do understand, don't you, Nana?'

A velvet topography,
Of ridges and furrows,
Undulations of light and shade,
A land born of upheaval,
And tectonic collisions,
With a fault line for a spine.

Shhh...

Do you hear that sound?
The strains of distant music
Do you recognise the tune?
The way you used to sway to its rhythm
Do you know the words?
It’s an old favourite

Listen
And remember