the old man had lost something
of inestimable worth
more precious than he could ever say

now his burden felt a little lighter
a little lighter
as he went upon his way

(first posted 3 Feb. 2016)


after days of worsening symptoms
and aching feet
I sat in the Cathedral
and felt at peace
in the beautiful Cathedral
of Saint-André in Bordeaux
I felt the glow of something
inhabiting my soul
sanctuary sweet sanctuary
a tourist bends his knee
some of this sweet sanctuary
come away with me
sanctuary sweet sanctuary
when it was time to leave
I almost lit a candle
but something halted me

[first posted 7 December2015]

a clear sky

you taught me a lot
and lit a fire in the snow

under the dovecote
a rook comes and goes

from a clear sky

and you sent me a photo
of a white candlestick

I keep on my wall
it reminds me often

of home


dog on the bed
like a polar landmass in the spring
I would give anything
to be like you
yours is an empire of the skin
mine the meandering way within
an island off the compass of the world
go howl your howl
let it be heard

[first posted 1 Jan 2017]

the valley

sitting on the bed
notebook raised to the rough angle
of the ridge opposite
where the orange cubes of a new estate
have sprung up against the skyline
I recall another time
I sketched houses in distraction
as one parent raged against the other
in the summer vacation
before they parted

I shouldn’t have started
the light diminishes – evening comes early

evening comes early to all of us
who dwell in the valley

[first posted 26 March 2015]

after the last boat 

then to awaken

after the last boat has left

water and wine in the cupboard
sun on an empty shelf

on the beach of unfathomable forms
to sit awhile at rest

I was told that each grain of sand is unique

where miracles are unlikely

default lines

the day defaults
upon the dark trudge home
I turn my collar to the night
find no message on my phone
think of Robert Frost
as the last street light is passed
weigh good against indifferent
and find the case is lost

the day defaults
to nothing very clear
beyond a bowl of peanuts
and a glass or two of beer
but when I think back
put some distance to my sight
I find that in the darkness
came a different kind of light

[first posted 26 March 2015]

a flutter of wings

bridge between two islands

a place of meeting
and of tryst

and desiring
and doing without 

things are not the same

I garden


never looking up

even at
a flutter of wings