you took the swan road
your kimono hangs quiet
both of us empty

It was windy today
I did not walk alone on the beach
or hear its many creaks and groans
the watery moans of margin land
where sea becomes sand, and tide becomes sky
I sat in the car to keep myself dry
and watch the squawking seabirds fly
battling the wind for scraps
thrown and trapped in a playful breeze
which dropped and then continued to tease
litter turned to crisp packet sails
that danced and skipped in the stinging air
with a grace and freedom I could not share
all the same I’m glad I was there

Soft falls the light,
not sea nor beach nor seabird wandering sky
it is by nature separate and entirely of itself
edged in sand, a yellow shade of rippled countenance
not exactly day nor coming night
although the evening tide has lately been
it is a colour somewhere in-between

Oh Vincent
whatever did you do
ripening fields of summer corn
and sunflowers of a brilliant hue
a shade no other eyes could see
except for God and you

Press your ear against the bowl
can you hear it ringing
I think the earth is singing

Tread the line between sea and sand
hold the wind, take its hand
let it out
anyway you choose
walk a mile in the ocean's shoes

A parcel from my Uncle Jim
could be short or tall or fat or thin
you never knew what lay within.

This one was large the paper thick
I'm sure at first I heard it tick
then it burped or I thought it did
there was something written on the lid.

My mother said we should take care
it could be anything in there
there was this noise, a sort of howl
like turkeys, followed by a growl

Out came streams of purple smoke
that smelled a bit like artichoke
it put out legs in yellow socks
right through the bottom of the box

Mum fetched her old and trusty broom
and then she chased it from the room
down the garden to the shed
then she leaned against the door and said

I'm having words with Uncle Jim
you never know when it comes from him!