A Keening Wind

wild wave-whipper
after raging, dying, passes
leaving debris in its path
whispers at the window glass
whistles through the tiles and rafters
bringing cooling breeze at last


Woops! Let’s go cavorting! (silly one)

woopie-doo-dah, doo-dah-day
let’s fly, and fly, fly far away,
over the hills, a far flung thing

who’s to reason or wonder why?
i see no reason here to stay
i can hear the fairies sing!

have you forgotten we once flew?
the hour is late but not too late
i have a wish for morning dew
and mountains high
and rushing rivers wide and deep
and the holy grass beneath my feet
deep in the woods
where the shadows play

come prepared
follow the hare
spin three times
bow to the moon
here comes the breeze
here comes the spin
whirling like leaves up to the sky
the wind that’s strong will lift us high
but don’t let it blow your top knot off!

Melting Snow

a summer breeze blew in today
it swept me off my feet
all the world has turned about
my madness is complete

but this is not insanity
it’s sanity profound
magic cast a sudden spell
and I’m still on the ground

the earth is still beneath my feet
the sun is in the sky
this perfumed breeze is one i know
from very long ago

love returns with brighter stars
above, around, below
this gentle, soft, return of love
has melted all my snow

I Know Yellow and Blue


I have heard it said that purple and mauve

stand for  memory,  nostalgia, or loss.

Lavender scented cupboards spring to mind.


I know that purple is yellow and blue,

mixed by an artist’s brush


Summer skies, cornflowers, sunflowers,

sunshine and bluebells in spring,

daffodils, delphiniums,

bunting across the street,

blue doors in white walls

under an awning that flapped in the wind,

a boat on a tossing sea breeze,

blue ripples across the bay,

a beach ball of summer stripes thrown up to the sun,

the bucket and spade we left behind

on that glowing yellow day


Our memories shine in full colour

or age to a lesser thing





Where was it, who was I and when?

A dream, almost remembered on waking

But gone, almost, just out of reach,

There at the back of my minds eye

Imprinted, unfocused yet real.

Was it long, or in passing, brief,

When was it our fingertips touched?

Just beyond reach is a thought of you,

A word on the tip of my tongue,

A perfume caught, a breeze recalled,

A scent I know but can’t name.

If I don’t think about it, I’ll know.

Now it is, what it was, what it is.

I like it so.

Celtic Knot

a tenuous thread blown on a breeze

woven into a net, it saves us

you pull on the thread, i feel it,

a bowline that twitches under my rib


sometimes that pull can hurt me

when i know that you are feeling some pain

wrapping the thread round my fingers

I hold it to bring you back closer again


the connection between us all can be frail

we can twist it, strain it and break it,

or twine it, thread it and weave it

into a beautiful knot that is strong




The bowline is an ancient and simple knot used to form a fixed loop at the end of a rope. It has the virtues of being both easy to tie and untie and it is easy to untie after being subjected to a heavy load. But the bowline knots name has an earlier meaning, dating to the age of sail. On a square-rigged ship, a bowline is a rope that holds the edge of a square sail towards the bow of the ship and into the wind, preventing it from being taken aback. A ship is said to be on a “taut bowline” when these lines are made as taut as possible in order to sail close-hauled to the wind.

Girl in a Garden # 1

the girl runs from house to garden
from garden to house and back again
thinking only of running
thinking only of the garden and the house
this house, this garden
the breeze and the sunlight pooled on the grass
and the swaying of the poplar trees

she has no memory of any other place
or time
the delusions of the world  unravelled
unspun they slipped away
this world complete enough