Recapturing: Almscliffe Crag

Recapturing: Almscliffe Crag

Muddy boots, the sign of a good adventure

breeze-dried to my jeans.

It’s Christmas, and anyone who knows lonely

will know how much this means

to have hands to pull you up.

The wind gives me time to steady my feet,

mist lingering in earnest to softly kiss my cheeks

with afternoon colours, greys and greens and blues

and we could be on top of the world.

Now, more than ever,

I understand nature’s lesson;

a picture really is worth a thousand words.

Animal, Vegetable, Mineral

Animal, Vegetable, Mineral

I am the hunted,

scent carries on the wind, tastes

of a three course meal

on the tongue,

we meet at the waterhole

to savour the other use for these lips,

preparing for the chase with palate cleanser

they would think we are but grazing creatures

but this prolonged gaze is sizing up sinews, how they execute

movements with the bones,

as nature meets wild beast

my flesh is the feast

upon which you will later feed,

with sadistic grip of incisors,

pinned neck to Savannah dust,

coats collide in frantic lust

as to evolution’s displeasure

I plead guilty.

Eiderdown

Eiderdown

The wind brings with her

cloud after cloud, each calling

in turn with a draught at the door

to sweetly kiss my cheek

and bid me peace on the breeze,

for theirs is but a fleeting visit,

full of vows

that this October will be different, darling.

The faint figure of a single starling,

black at a distance, seen closer

with a gloss of purples and greens,

fast in flight, impeded by mistrals

on its route to the roosting site

where a mass murmuration

warms its wings on winter nights.

I watch from my window,

not yet convinced by the change in weather.

Plucking Rainbows

Plucking Rainbows

Are you blue as the sky in sunlight

or blue as the depths of the ocean floor,

Are you red like the sky at night

(shepherds delight)

or red like strips of blood on ice,

a baby seal clubbed to the head

so someone else can wear its colours,

Whose team would you support,

(loyal to the end),

and when we’re running colours

how do we make the ground white again?

Plucking rainbows

will not cover the black soot

staining our souls

when you peel back your layers

and freeze to death

before you burn in Hell

for stealing Mother Nature’s colours.