assumimg you are safe
i tell you about the villages
close by yet still over the
mountain

where the good grub is
for midwinter while men
buzz about hunting

while i disapprove
and eat the vegatables

where the man talks about
his toe endlessly as the other
word is rather complex & all
this with only one paid for cup
of tea

where the child lays low playing
and unscrewing the chair legs

where the night comes earlier
each day and pheasants walk

the lanes in procession. this
was a gathering
this was a confession

yesterday
was not quite
midwinter
solstice
yet

so we taps the till and tells it how they paid

sometimes we misses the correct tab while

smiling and chatting to the customer folk.



so on cashing up with the actual divisions

of card or cash

the till notes

our silly error and adjusts things accordingly

with the ups and down message. at the end

of the day i am too

weary to think of it, the logic.



one customer had that look about him.

i note and remember.

you said you wanted clarity

when it was there before you

black and white

& read

you mainly comment

like and share

when it is colour

blue

remember this



this is layered
with much underneath
hiding.

you may not like
that which may be
revealed

your astonishing reply
thank you

the day started with the usual anxiety
research, planning for all events when
in the end none of that occurred.

usual.

the day came saddened with news
that folk are struggling one way and
another
worried about heating. we talked
as you and i do about fuel and the
benefits of brands and differing shapes

i had a late fire after work and sat right
in front watching the flames,eating grape
nuts in thin milk. i need to go shopping

tv came sadly with a documentary
people losing their homes so i took
my depleted anxiety to bed with

a talking book. the weaver of raveloe

i cannot ever get to the end for sleep
comes over me

each time it plays i only gets to the
casting of lots

there is tired for you
there is a bedtime
story syndrome.

driving here on sunday morning
is easy too. always a worry about
weather on the mountain during
winter.

it chucked it down yesterday. i was
on the bus over to the lake. white
on the higher reaches, slush on the
windscreen, wipers busy until the

bird hit, all grey and feathers. it
may have been a pigeon once.

the wipers turned back on with
windscreen wash as extra with
a shocked silence.

i drew the power house again
yesterday
with no thought of promises
made.

had it all been different i may
have taken further education
you know.

early. you got here first
while i was still asleep

worn out & emotional
the bad sort of tired

i prefer the weariness
that comes from honest
work, walking or travelling

i did none of that yesterday
just fiddling and fretting
over news

the new coal nuggets were
chosen wrong & worked out
good with a steady flames,
fluttering sparks to delight

i mended the roof slate teetering
on the kitchen chair and fixed
the guttering

now there is a juicy word
as is spluttering, a song

to be sung here interrupted
by tap dancing mayhap. so

we talk to each other and
carry on, carry on.

what to tell you?



as snow falls, small birds shelter

i look at the photographs at my table, the second hand ticks round



should I speak of childhood

or of my family some gone now, while others grow



to write of my interests, my collections



to start

at the beginning



they tell me  i  was born at home on a sunday



early days



raining days, the pram hood smelled. gabardine.



blue white edging patterned              greek style.

sound of water falling,                 puddled apron,

bread in damp paper,         taste of crust corner.



springy, bouncing down green road, my brother

weighting.                                           the other end.



a blanket to pick fluff

&

straps to bind me.



later came other fragments, the whisper of sausages for tea, the promise of marmite,

fragile gas mantles to replace night time candles.



my brothers



three brothers, two born before the war, one born after

i do not remember the war, also born after



the youngest.  we all lived together until my father left:  I was four &



remember his leaving; he took the radio , a large thing

he carried it high on his shoulder like a trophy



dad came back once, i saw him through the window bringing a doll for me

mother gave it to the girl next door.



early days



as I write this simply, I am aware of that which is remaining unsaid

i feel I was a quiet thing, bit of a mouse really. i am stronger now



since those times I find I have both a half brother and sister, yet do not know them



i  was mostly happy, unaware of the undercurrents in life





i enjoyed being alone and still do



two of my  brothers were  kind, although I did not understand some of their behaviours

with hindsight and education I may do so



at seven, I went to live  with the first  foster parent.





this changed everything a while. the first of several care situations.



mother was ill



listen to what i do not tell

listen to what i do not tell



you



my brothers



did i tell you



that i walked down the road he lived

some time with his sister

hoping to be seen, recognised & cared for.



my father

later

said he was there if i needed him.



he was not.

.

small birds shelter.

small birds get broken to bits.