thought it was tarmacadam as did the passer by

who remarked upon it.



it is not mine, it is the neighbour’s

drive.



i know now it is asphalt

a stronger surface allegedly. the former surace cracked

in danger of breaking up like mine which i prefer.



more country

where flowers seed.



i know that pitch comes from a lake in trinidad

and  i like the words bitumen and tar.



i like the aroma and  stickiness to poke with sticks



set now

time stops in winter

here.



we find it manageably quiet.



today we drives to conwy busy

with people making holidays

is lovely.



yet i cannot find it easy.



i buys the trousers i have wanted for such a long time

from the pound rail.



look at cakes as is my hobby.



talk about angels and return home.



quiet.

apart from the men laying  tarmacadam opposite.



it smells nice as does the creosote from yesterday.



while the music plays softly.

saw it sailing by

at the night watch

clouds arranged dramatic.

let it go,

oh let it go,

let it sail free

there on the road ahead.

looking toward me with dead eyes.

mouth open.



i could not stop

nor swerve

for sunday traffic.



slowing i gently made sure the body

was not touched by wheels.



straddling.



as did the car behind

me.



after i stopped to post a letter

and stayed a while to look

at the fields around

me.

ran out yesterday

lost you completely with the pattern in the sky

the leaves on the oak

on the mountain.       i lost you





you left the group

took off and flew



flight was not sustained

hovering over past demeanours

faltered

landed carefully



in disappointment hugging

affirming it did not matter

i am travelling to the end of the world

with you.



all.



unless we stop to

start again.



unless we travel more careful



we shall see

blackened lakes.



kissing the ancestors, hugging the memories presently.



now



the will of the people over rides that of the mystery.



throwing all into
misalignment

we noticed it that day and found it omninous.

february 2019

the sea is quiet as we have never seen it

sun as hot as it gets

like summer



they gloried in it

the bathers

the media



we watched



while the ice melted.