To Young Artemis
Divine huntress, in your chase of things wild over the mountains of Kynthos and of the world, chase for fame, gold, greatness, glory —overabundant to qualify for…
The Wisteria Bush
Because of a welcoming new guest inside him whose loving he adopts as his own with gratitude, this year, after living with his wisteria bush and its…
A Blackbird Feeding
Homage à Guillaume Apollinaire A busy female blackbird of the colour Of the piled dry grass clippings She stands in and flings aside, Appears to find in…
The Seasons in Music
Music and nature have formed a close symbiosis from the beginning. Music is itself rooted in the facts of nature, in mathematical ratios and acoustical overtones. And…
Dance of the Sky
As I look up at the stars That sing to me from afar, I dwell in that spirit divine Giving life to this soul of mine. My…
Mrs Nevines’ Bird Sanctuary, Co. Antrim
Mrs Nevines’ bird sanctuary looks at first Like a meshed community of cages Where birds get better – or worse, End up in the world of her…
Where Can Roots Be Sown?
A strip of paper through the grass is blown, I sense it grapples and it yearns to stay; On a windy street, where can roots be sown?…
Hupomeno: To Remain Under
We sat side by side, watching the sun recede Knowing, with a kind of resigned assurance, that we would never remember tomorrow what had happened…
The Burning: A Poem
Have you seen the way water In a swimming pool, a pond, Even a little birdbath like this, In its reflection under the eaves - Brushed with…
A Visit to the Planetarium: A Poem
In the daft heaven of the planetarium, stars and galaxies streaked away from us expanding in multiples of ten ad infinitum, while a…
Flowery Wasteland
Mind is blue, tattooed with floral etchings. Copper wire rib cage, coiled around bone. Dust and sunlight on the wall, seems you were never quite as tall.…
When I Met the Wolf: A Poem
I skied beneath the light of the moon through forest and clearing my dog ahead startling rabbits and partridge to flight— to our mutual delight— Mars piercing…
Winter Solstice: A Poem
I am sixty-six years old, there is no cure for that. Another winter solstice observed and waved off, the days are brief, and icy. Meister Eckhart, I…
Remembrance
Burial The still, calm silence of the morning Breaks into hammering – hard, Sharp and ringing – metal on metal: Somewhere in a neighbouring garden I guess…
At Twilight: A Poem
Nobody will come, nothing will change, The day will continue to drag its hours Through dusk, evening, then the night: The cold will intensify, lodge in flesh,…