A locked lake lies lonely,
deep beneath ice and snow.
Pieces of past still present
in delicate misty glow.
We wish to wake it.
We wish to know it.
I wish they'd leave it alone.

I think my mind calls it home.

I rarely yearn
for childhood days,
but these blue skies
encase me in
a haze of melancholy.
The swelter of
Summer sun in
sweet smelling cars.
Sand falling dry
from pockets and
untangled hair.
That rush of ice-
cold water, from the
wrong tap; always
with the promise
of ‘penny sweets' when
loving, aged hands had
towel-dried behind ears.
I miss the smell of
sun on my arms...
the taste of sea
on my knuckles.
The warmth of copper coins;
leaving circular
designs in the palm of
my hand.

The whole world is a sea—
A great ball of green blue eye
Watching the skies with a watery
Gleam in the round and swirling
Aye, the sea is a sauce, quivering
In the bowl of heaven and clouds
Are blushing with rivers run flushing
Waters older than the gold of stars,
Into the sea.  I see that hushed time
Is flowing as it all revolves with tides
And birds, white as snow and foams
Pure as dreamed downy wind, wings
Long, sure, set for a choppy pilgrim's
Sea journey, swaying with the stages,
Always breezy, sliding as fish do flying
In her rounding depths and her gusty
Crests and all are riddled as mariners
Who travel on her spindrift ways, days
Of the dizzying sun and steamy springs,
We all go step into deepest end, darkling
Fathoms of slip, those eventual afterwhens,
Riding the sunk, fabled under-ocean streams,
In mangled kelps of weeds, into the murky wave.

I love my country side home.
firewood heat fighting the
gusts of winter wind
breaking through
timber
walls creaking with
the outside wanting
in.

still, the absence of your perfume,
freshly showered hair and
skin, smells like the emptiness I'd
feel alone, deep in the
bowels of
an enemy alien spacecraft
heading
home.