In Godolphin Woods
The sycamore has sensuous bark
With plush layers of greenish moss
Its leaves are doorways into summer
As through the green we see the sun
The woods are filled with bluebell flowers
Awash with purple fringed blue haze
They flutter and sway like surfstrewn waves
When breezes crease the summer days.
Response to Philip Larkin’s “The Mower”
Carelessness costs lives; the wartime slogan
Still holds true as we destroy the planet,
While everyone pretends to be saving it.
Kindness comes too late, when death
Has already dragged the soul away
From mortal worlds. It is easy to lament
A needless loss, much harder to prevent.
This is the post excerpt.
St Ives Harbour View
The harbour view, precisely framed, is sparkling blue
With crystal colours of the ocean; a window onto
Infinite space. We sit surrounded by the azure bay,
A ring of shimmering brilliance, where land embraces sky
And seas sweep in from far Atlantic shores. Meanwhile
All kinds of people roam across the beach
Perhaps in search of love or pearls, and molluscs frolic
In the wake of boats grown lazy in the luscious light.
A seal nestles by the quay, then vanishes, too frisky
To be bound by harbour walls or human admiration.
Our words drift out to sea, swept out beyond rescue,
Into the fathomless distance; now everything is blue.