The Time will Come

The time will come,
the time of warm connecting. 

We’ll be in and out of each other’s houses,
breaking bread, kids running riot,
squeezing everyone in for movie or games nights.
We’ll be talking from our souls,  
giving each other comfort, hugs and touch,
without doubt, without hesitation.

The time will come,
where the dark bubbling anxiety
humming in the background
will flow down the gutter – away, gone.
Instead we’ll go to Filey,
on a hot day, sun blazing,
crowd on the beach with happy folk, free, jostling,
riding on the waves,
cool water caressing.

The time will come when we head on the train,
see our beloveds, our homes,
hug them tight,
talk, our bodies close, spreading our germs,
and we won’t care, we won’t even think about it,
we won’t have to worry,
it won’t matter at all.

Yes, the time will come,
the time of warm connecting.

New Years Day 2021

A sadness seeps in on New Year’s Day, 
the Christmas lights glare discordant, clashing.
We clear the brightness away, rhythmically sweeping,
unveiling the bare and barren. 

You talk of our garden,
of taking broken and disused things,
and making them new:
chairs and a fire pit.

You talk of finding plants
that will give to the natural,
to the creatures
who share our home.

A slow quiet hope unfolds on New Year’s Day,
glowing
fragile and expectant. 

Candles Burning

Our candles burn bright; luminous, inviting, 
in our grate,
while Cave cries into the dark void, 
into the tangled mystery. 

Outside the darkness swirls and descends,
mocking chaos, unjust trampling,
while our candles burn bright
in our grate.

Food in Winter

Today we went for a winter walk, 
the sky blue with threatening clouds. 
Our goal was gelato and chips.

Through the park the squirrels were nibbling
their winter stores,
blackbirds and tits flitting
in the berry bushes.

Walking back, licking out ice cream,
our hands are red with cold,
quickly picking our chips, growing tepid.

We pass again the squirrels and birds,
filling themselves too
with their winter food.