brock.



the badger was dead by the side

of the road.





walking,

i passed the other side.





returning on that side i stopped to look.



it did not smell.



it was just dead.



brock.

above

tiny little bird

holding one seed.



the trees were dead along the road.



some one sings.



the wren.

i found you stranded.



held you , hugged you.



felt the weight of your body.



felt your fin.



there.



i took you to the water

and lay there with you



hoping it would save your life.

these are the longer days, lighter days, wood pile growing, apple wood, colours of joy. believe in the world, that you can spell first time. be proud as you point out where you live, at all there is.

they are asking in the village if the pub is open yet.

i question  have  they called by to ask?



they are asking in the village if the pub serves food.

have they popped in to ask &  to see the menu?



they are saying in the village that the front needs tidying

as does the car park.



i ask the folk in the village if they will tidy their own place

and  to be glad the pub is open again.



i called in to a lovely guided tour and a warm welcome.



let us not be so critical. tyn y groes.

yes i did.



each spring

before easter came

she bought me a new cotton dress in m&s.



st margaret.



a bigger size

taken up, tucked in with

room for growth.



the next year it was second best for school

taken down , let out

and fading in the summer holidays.



the jackets were my brothers.

you make speeches, you rally while i remember my mother.

dermott.jpg

notes:-

q.
and the little ‘blue bag’ of whitener?


a.


mum did not use those, the cost i expect. gran did though .i remember it in her scullery. i have one for remembrance.