IN THE DEEP MIDWINTER

the fox pauses
a paw
left in mid air

resting upon
a clump
of darkness

the fox listens intently
the countryside listens
to the fox's listening

a stillness falls
upon all
a snail stops mid-wall

nothing moves
the fox's eye glistens
the world holds its breath

the fox trots
as if in a dream
across countryside that's never been

my face reflected
in the diorama
the museum closing for the night

THE SMELL OF THE LIGHT

Tilly tells me
she 'adores'
the smell of the light

watches intensely as I
fiddle with the wick of
our battered kerosene lamp

I smile as her eyes light up
love how she loves
everything with a passion

'Adore' is her
new-found
much-used-word

so now she 'adores'
the rich ritual of
lighting the lamp

and all
its accordant
magic

Hand in hand we
scatter the darkness
that snarls

and reluctantly
backs away but
then creeps back

behind us
its tongue lapping
at us

licking its lips
as if it would
swallow us up

but is afraid
of the smelly
light

the wind
tries to
blow us out

scared she
clutches me
all the tighter

"I don't like the way
the light makes
the darkness darker!"

her voice shivers
I catch her up
in the crook of my arm

she cuddles closer
as we walk on
towards the barn

adrift
in a sea
of darkness

we the only speck
of light
no stars tonight

we
the light
of the world

the pregnant cow
lowing as if
it knows we're coming

Tilly nuzzles
into me
a frightened little mouse

jumping when an owl
demands of us
"Who...who...who?"

"Your chest is too
tickly!"
she complains sleepily

"Ah. . .yes my
little chickadee!"
I W. C. Fields her

this never
ceases to
amuse her

our intertwined laughter
and the smell of the light
dispelling the darkness

the pregnant cow
delighted
to see us

JUST IS
( for Jeremy )


a bird sings
the morning
into being


the sky itself
seems
to emerge note by note


from its tiny throat
as if
it sings sunlight


a bud opens
colouring the air
with the scent  of itself


the grass laughs
with delight
in all its thousand green voices


my naked feet
stepping through
its words


a flock of dandelions
alights about
my toes


sunlight
becomes
the world


“I am the here
and now!”
it announces


season's greetings
sap rises
without a second thought


it
just -
"is"


a feather flutters
as I watch time pass
amongst the garden's trees


wondering what bird
owned this
balanced upon my palm


it takes to the air
as if it were  the bird itself
a feathered fractal


a sudden gust
blows a rook off course
it stands its ground upon the air


returning to where it was before
the wind played its practical joke
oh how the other rooks chuckle


a cloud does an impression
of Merlin the Magician
then in time

impersonates
itself
being a cloud again


a lark skates upon a sky
as if it were
the bluest  thinnest ice


that it may
fall through
into some other dimension


a butterfly half drunk on flight
pretending to be
a flower...flying


a willow bows to me
I bow to it
humbled by its grandeur


I, the least needed here
all this would happen
without my mind


my eyes given
the privilege of such seeing.
I, a mere observer


trapping in words
what can not be
trapped in words


Time drifts and I am left
with all this beauty
the beauty just in being.


*


I saw these things when I was seven and I felt them intensely but had no words for them...I knew them but didn't know how to know them in words. I can still see and feel them to this very day so I thought surely now I have the words to explore them...I only had to wait 54 years to be able to explore them....this is an attempt to capture the beauty that overwhelmed the child but took seed in him and hopefully bloomed into being once again. One attaches words to things only to see the words fall off! Some of these words have appeared to held on!

ME MAM’S MIND
(in memory of my mother Ita)

“If you fall
off that wall

& break both
your legs

...don’t come
running to me! ”

Could never understand
my Mam’s mind

& how it
worked.

One moment
she 'had half a mind

to come up there
&' get me off that wall.

Then she 'was in two minds
about' whether to tell me to stop.

“Go ahead...go ahead
& **** yourself

...see if I care! ”

“I’m warning you child
if you fall off that wall

& ****
yourself

I’ll personally
come up there

& **** ya myself
so I will! ”

I used to watch the words
climbing out of her mouth

& fly around the room

looking for a place to land
in my mind.

Never cared
whether she gave out.

I just loved
everything she said

the music of her
& how

she made the words
behave.

I came down
and kissed her

kissed her worry away.

'I'm sorry Mam'
I told her.

And she cried.

*

It was the moment I grew up...seeing her not just as me Mam but as another human being with her own fear and worries...she became a person in her own right. I was so disgusted with myself for causing that fear and after that I tried to look after her as much as I could. seeing the world not just with my eyes but with her eyes. I became in a way her mother. Me mothering my mother.

FADÓ FADÓ( LONG LONG AGO )

( For Damien of the Carrolls )


a cloud morphing
into the great hand
of a God



that people no longer
have time to
believe in



it  catches the sea
and tweaks it
into pleats



as an aunt
would do in dressmaking
in a long ago



and now the cloud
becomes nothing
but a cloud again



and sits itself
over the empty house
where clocks



locked into
the only living room
argue over time



of what is past
what is passing and
what may come



the furniture
covered in sheets
like old ghosts



who have forgotten
how to
die



silence settling
like dust  
upon the highest shelves



the sea becoming
unstitched from the shore
will have to be pleated once more

THAT TAKES THE BISCUIT
( THE SPY IN THE HOUSE OF LOVE )


meeting the mother-in-law
parrot mimics your moans
from the night before

"oh...OHYES!!!"
screams the parrot
I pass the biscuits

*

A fly did try to land on the biscuits and I whooshed it away and it landed on the mother-in-law's nose where it stayed for an inordinate measure of time and we gazed at it in utter fascination as she well I nevered.

It was a Chocolate Bourbon...originally called "Creola" and as stale as the day they first came out in 1910.

PRAYER
( for Rexanne )

The tree
lifted its arms

to the sky
and prayed for hours.

It offered up
all its leaves

that lay at its feet
like a woman

stepping out of
a yellow dress

birds came and sang
in all its branches

as if they were leaves
of living song.

As we left
it wore a sunset

and the birds
had become

stars.