Graveyard Walk

There is a signJust inside the gatesSpray-painted in bright yellow:A picture of two bodiesAnd an arrow between themLabelled ‘6 ft’. It looks like a traffic marking.Strange to see thisOn consecrated ground,Where stone angels hover,And carefully-chiselled datesBook-end the livesOf the sleepersUnder our feet. Someone passes,Chasing their dog.A woman in exercise gearDoes lunges In front of gravestones.A …

Colour and pattern

The thing about knittingIs you have to choose:Colour or pattern? A beautiful textureWill only showWith a solid colour.Likewise,A vibrant, multicolour yarnWill get lostIn a busy pattern. I’ve learned thisFrom careful observationAnd the sharp edgeOf experience. No sweaterCan holdEvery colourI think is beautiful;Or every patternI want to seePlay out.Trying to cramEverything inOnly endsIn a tangled mess. …

Chrestomathy

Everything familiarOnce started As something foreign. We nibble atThe unknown,Chew and digestEach tiny bite. And gradually the tasteOf something strangeOr unpalatableBecomes somethingThat we crave. There was a timeWhen the thingsThat you love mostWere crypticAnd befuddling.Can you remember? Take a momentTo be gratefulTo the onesWho packaged experienceInto delectable parcelsTeasing us with the promiseOf bigger mysteries. Reading …

Blackberries

I was too prickly, too wild,Too thorny, too demanding,Too aggressive,Too unruly,Too chaotic,Too big. Maybe if I hadn’t grown quite so high,Or foolishly trailed my branches down to the ground,Maybe if I had stayed exactly at eye-levelIn easy reach… Maybe if I had smoothed away my sharpness,Pared back my leaves,Plumped my juicy fruit,Or curled appealingly into …