Jay is a handsome boy
With long dark curls
Reaching below his shoulders
Reminders of my other lads
His uncle Alex and brother Richard.
Grown in stature and understanding
Smart in striped shirt
Sitting in the sun
Under the Robina tree
I thought how far he has come.

Not my son but my daughter's
Unspoken hero of his age
Worked with seven other
Offspring to bring about
Some sort of change.
Made it to university
Computers he did choose
Compelled by an inner calling
Found a way
He is no fool.
Love you grandson
In the morning of your life
Hope you keep
That spark alive
And I will continue to be glad.

Love to Jay from Grandma ***

The Wisteria is gently trellised up my aging Robina tree
the roots were smitten by Brenda, the previous owner
but at least some shoots survive.
Sir Wrigley has donated me
an orange Lilly although,
he likes to be known as James


A creature has unearthed my succulent cactus
I blame a Badger,
cannot afford to lessen my admiration for urban foxes.
The Lucifer Crocosmia will look abundant in Summer

Its September
Where is your rain muse ?
weve got our Autumn here
I'm drawing a line
on Summer past
like some bedraggled piston
its  chore has gone
The buddleia is slightly drawn
and the red roses have died down
The Fern tree is re-splendid
in its promise
potted under my Robina
There's spinach and broad beans
for spring

Acorns fallow
where do squirrels feed
Snowdrops late this year
The seasons awry
and still we feel the cold
as the arcane wind barricades
itself amongst the pummelled fence
Here a strange madness begins to find out
its root of dreams
amongst the dying robina