it is a junction

the old railway track

the road to the farm there

tidy and organised

they saw me coming, waited and said hello

said they were coming so we waited to see

them come running the quad bike behind herding

all excited and we laughed to see

the calves run out into the field the first time ever

with their mothers

let us look at things, differently.

often, we do things, no one ever sees.

that is you and me. two of us
dancing in the dark. it came
and went,

quickly.

stuck in  ice forewarned
by terms of reading

arctic exploration

yellow
drawn by the name not just the colour
and oh that name come true
on opening jim

is fading now
yet remains as the description

thinking of you and all the others that fly solo in these odd times under today’s cultural pressures.

we must fly higher.

our work
our soul
is in
our chest

repeat

that

i don’t paint like you

or you

&

need to convince myself

some things just stop us in wonder

here

with tears

unexpected

it seems there may be some connection

some call it a trigger

some things leave us cold and wondering what all the excitement

is about

unlike the thing in cairo yesterday


obviously I have no photographs

it is a headstone

in the graveyard

out back.

i think it is a wreath.



the circle turns.

the sounds
softer.
once the day is dawn, the door is open, face the sky, all
comes well some days.

today is apricot

a new jar opened easily


my mum would buy a large tin and decant

there were five of us, one had left earlier


seems trivial to write of preserves during pandemic

yet it is a treat this morning with a croissant in bed

cosy


we have all sorts in the pantry with little gingham caps

held on with rubber bands

i have a pack somewhere in a rainbow of colours

yet often use those dropped by the postman

wide in brown


also have sandwich spread

more as savoury

alongside asda’s own marmite

such a treat yet not for breakfast


nearly a year now

have stopped waving

and carry on

in contentment

they  do not know the darkness

how the light can fade into latin

& all things unreasonable

comes a differing hue

with duck egg blue

the ironmongers in town

at one seventy nine

mild here with sun
shining on the lake and
hills beyond. we both
looked from the top deck
on the bus yesterday

now your name may be redeemed
your wanderings freed into new

adventures

or maybe you will still stay inside a while

inside the boundary lines

four fields

corona

it was boiling water them days

plates and cutlery dipped

hands minded in industrial gloves

pink rubber

scalding dishcloths and sinks

down on knees blindly scrubbing floors

through insults and watery fears

we are a team , shouted regularly

while we took the comments seriously cowed with blisters from cold water on the other hand

a world of extremes

or maybe the contradictions

were dreamed

broke

shattered

broken reflections

of a former life

smashed as it hit the floor

this is what i was like at the beginning before all that happened which now is past

this is what I am like now , back to that beginning and maybe a differing shape outside

the island blessed

sandy tracks to wander

in memory.



like birds we flew

now your name may be redeemed
your wanderings freed into new

adventures

or maybe you will still stay inside a while

inside the boundary lines

four fields

corona

we shall never know
for there is no microscope
here
moving on i feel it was a flashback
to the girl who wished for quiet and
can remember  in detail

decide which

petulant shadow hides

integrity.

honesty abounds yet the flags

will find us.

dreamed of devastation,           flew miles        low

over concrete .   skeletons,      bones of the thing.

all is dust, as dust we have become.

no one does nothing

substantial

even after all this time .

watching all the crime.

the list is long  & unbelievable,

then longer and extra unbelievable.

each day.

yet no one seems to do anything.

i says this out loud to mine &  can do nothing

substantial.

only shaking.

do not know everything
only my version

a fraction of the whole
blue sky thinking
here

comes a differing hue

with duck egg blue


the ironmongers in town

at one seventy nine


we can walk there and back or there

and bus back you see


he said folk get used to anything

i find this true to a point when all is comfy


was used to the other colour once

best to be gentle with those and all other things…

the word came involuntarily,
others were stuck, yet i knew
them to be beautiful, and
so they are.

powers and dominions,
virtues

a world of extremes

or maybe the contradictions

were dreamed

he seemed surprised yesterday that i had completed the task


to ensure the proportions looked right for me


it is part of the job and if it is diaried must be done ticked off when finished

 
the sham crow bird was rearranged for it was too high  to look good


later in the studio the work that had continued the same so long made a change
with a sigh of relief 


thankyou

no sighs.

they have forgotten us.        we have forgotten them.

are we  now the bones of what we were?

who knows what lies underneath

here the land goes up and down

water drains

into rivers

wanting to be noticed?

looking for a friend then

wear your interest where it can be seen easily and maybe smile

meanwhile

as predicted

some don’t care….

you have been holding on a long time
hemmed in with printed lines


enhanced with ink

blobs


now your name may be redeemed
your wanderings freed into new

adventures


or maybe you will still stay inside a while

inside the boundary lines


four fields


corona

some of us most of us
tucked inside
becoming whiter
chattering
small white teeth

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.

liking the format, liking the days
that come natural now without
no planning

evolving gradually

sometimes
a while in a box
will do nicely…

like to be quiet,speaking
only
when you asked the question.

not sure why i came.
i think you invited me?

speak those words, templar, that i cannot say.

another time, another place

we named it best eleven.        dark the day,           we are survived.

light came, we saw the green ness of it all.                          we live in the country.

sometimes you know
i have no clue as to what
is occurring
here

or over there

find it challenging

and disappear

she said she liked the stories

except I did not tell them

i never tell you much

nor all of it

there are bits left to fill in

yourselves

now i beg forgiveness
we are little things
that dance in the mornings
james

in the light from the phone

tangled affair
too many people talking at once

it is a messy affair
paint smudges and runs

eventually all comes clear
one having the final say

predictions come and go

leaves are turning slowly daily

except at the turning
maentwrog

they go first always
and suddenly

this time of year

watching the marks come good, no dots
intended
yet they came
without warning

there is no reaching the summit here
the story changed

an avalanche of news
and wet weather

dampened the spirit
so we nipped out between the storms

to post the letters
and that was all

the thread does not show here
nor the subject matter

and it is missed

am presently writing my reply
whilst composing a letter in my head

which will change my life

james

the pattern remains the same,
the sentences longer. this is not an issue, and is
accepted gratefully.

they say that the latter will bring immense relief,
to try it consciously.