page 34

In Spring

The dogs are lying
in the sun
they abandon themselves to it.

The easterly won't stop
thrashing the blue sky
the wild trees
the disoriented birds.

I have been in pain
for days now
though you wouldn't know
it, it is hot and red
and cunning, I am a slave to it.

All this time alone
and concentrating. I wonder
where it is that you go
and why you won't return?

I stand aching
under the wide dark sky
amazed by the cold light
of the stars.
How frail we are.

page 35

The Moon is Almost Full

The moon is almost full,
a plate of yellow cream.
It will ripen as it rises
and the yellow skin darken.

It will be rich,
you could eat it in slim slices
for a number of days.

You may grow fat
in its shadow and smile
licking the knife, thinking
this is just the beginning.

page 36

The Full Moon, a Celebration

(for Wendy)

The moon can be many things;
an orange mandarin
sitting fatly on the skinny horizon
a glowing pumpkin in a field of blue
a marble of luminous love
a neon orb
a rice paper lamp
the serious face of a sleeping child
bruising the night sky.
The moon turns the clouds
into vapour trails.
The sea becomes delirious
with this pleasure of dissolve.
Silver light
glides over us all night.
We wake clean and different.
Complete. A story well told.