On the hill

How I long to cling to you 
Like mud to a tyre 
But what use is mud 
When dust is desired? 
Dust, a whip, a lick 
In the sky; attainable 
As nothing that tries 

And how my roots would grasp 
And grow around you 
But roots 
Would only anchor you 
So I pull back and see 
Become a rowan; 
Lone, mountain tree 
In the scree 

And the moss that could grow 
On you, mellow and soft 
Cannot, because of the yellow glow 
The flower, wild, that grows 
Where danger flows in the soil 
On the hill
All the while 

I can’t wait and won’t 
To be hunted 
A stoat in ermine; 
I will be gone like prey 
The fabled one that got away 
On the hill 
I will not stop, 
I will not wait 

Three Faces

Mother, maiden, winter’s crone 
Three shadows walk; 
One woman alone 

“Blow north wind and bring us snow,” 
She said to the sky 
As black as crow 

White as death, the heavens heard 
And sent their blizzards; 
Flocks of birds 

She raised her arms to greet the cold 
Three faces turned: 
Young, middling, old 

And on their faces, laughing, lay 
The newborn winter 
Here to stay 

Confessions

She lay on the bed, naked as a newborn 
Goosebumps dancing a silent song 
Her blank stare begged, as she lay 
Before you, ripe and numb 
As the sun on a frost-filled day 
“A man thinks until he doesn’t,” 
You said without shame, as though 
When all was done and said 
She deserved what was to come 
I sat at your table and listened 
To the banquet of pain you feasted on 
How I longed to upturn it, in rage, disgust 
And leave, instead 
I looked at you deeply and said, 
“Was it kindness  
Or lust?” 

Time

Time stole my calm, my youth, my love 
It robbed my safe 
But time also stood by 
Patient and shy 
Time chose to wait 
Now it beckons 
“Come, I will take your hands 
And lead you onwards 
I will show you open lands 
I will send you silence 
And strange, prophetic dreams 
I will show you union 
In the merging of two streams 
Until the end, trust me,” 
Time says, 
“I must take, but also give 
As a friend” 

Love, if you’re looking

Love can be found  
In the frozen aisle of the supermarket  
It is hidden in a plastic bag 
By the bottle bank 
It's between the buns 
Of a burger  
And in the sink 
In the bathroom  
Love, if you're looking  
Rotates in the wheels  
Of a ten year old's scooter  
It is bound up 
In the laughter  
Of a friend  
And scattered on the floor 
After a haircut 
Love drips slowly  
Into the arm 
Of a cancer patient  
It can even be found woven 
Into binary code 
Love is everywhere 
But not always where you expect it 
That's why we need poets: 
To point it out