I was born with a Woolworth’s spoon in my mouth
not for me a silver stem and bowl
because my mother was a practical kind of soul
she fed us and she clothed us,
and she never forgot to love us,
then she taught us we were just as good
as the cutlery above us

Skylark falling
victim of the wind
waiting in the grain
begin and start your song
ascend across a blue and open sky
fly, as if your tiny heart would break
skim those fields of yellow grass and waving wheat
sing of all those things, which make a bird complete
soar, ignore the dark and waving ocean's roar
play in full your simple sweet and lovely tune
so loved by those of us who went before
speak skylark, use your summer voice
please stay, say you will return once more
encore

Flattened sky
ironed by night
creased by morning
beyond it the curving collar of the hills
and crows, equidistant on a wooden fence
black shiny button birds
placed to complete the landscape
time to put on the day
roll myself in the fabric of normality
and gather it tight
shaping to fit my purpose

Willow,
I will make my bed with you tonight
sleep soft and deep beneath your counterpane
no soothing water song, will ease my cares,
for I have none to ease
sing me no sweet tune,
no lullaby beneath the trees
for I am not a child,
a man full grown am I
traveller of the road,
by choice to make home
beneath a starlit sky

Pale she sleeps beneath the trees
unaware of rain
or any passing breeze
the silent girl with willow in her hair
no longer cares

Do not worry
when I go,
I will not be far
for I shall be the evening star
shining, ever near
do not fear
for I had my time
and lived it well as I knew how
but the time has come
I have to leave you now
watch the birds
see them fly
home across the evening sky
feel their wings
hear their song
you can cry,
but not for long

Silence after rain
no drip on bending leaves
no sound remains
no faint and whispered breath
nothing to be heard
except the wind
and a sweetly singing bird