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Like a plant brought here
from a faraway land
I found a crack in a wall
to hold my roots ...

Ten years on, I've grown
too big for this wall - I need hands
to lift me before I fall -
sun and rain to grow new shoots.

Sails

White sheets on the line

are a sign of spring -

gathering wind, light and air -

I pull them towards my winter face

and breath in freedom.

Change

Today they're removing

section by section,

the old sycamore

next to the church.

For three summers

I've stared from my bedroom

at its buds, birds

and complicated leaves.

For three winters

I've watched from my window

its bare branches

scratching the sky.

Now the view is clear -

the open sea

and all her promises.

Time to set sail.

Candlemas

2nd February 2009

Every candle in the cathedral burned

every person held a lit candle

the music rolled past like a molten river

carrying away the dark, the cold

with warmth and light and love.

Silence

Silence

Last day of January
dawn breaking as I write
still too late for comfort

My breath, the computer’s whirr
an occasional gull crying
no words spoken

January’s leaving silently
with her Janus-face

no apology, no explanation
not even saying goodbye.

Streets

Streets

I’ve shunned the urban
for muddy tracks and beaches

I’ve fallen asleep in a castle
behind high hedges of thorns

Now, I’m ready for people
to see beauty

in Falmouth’s well-made streets.

Blue

Blue

The colour of sadness
the music of oppression
today transformed
by the hard-working sea
into sky and spring

Perspective

Perspective

Sunday 18th January

For years, I have walked the lower path -
today, avoiding mud, we went over the hill.

I saw my town anew
from a vantage point I’d never been to.

How beautiful it is.

Fugitive

Fugitive

Like light on the path
wrens in the brambles
sun in the sky
my poems escape me –
there then gone.

Iris

Iris

I see blue and mauve
the artist sees cerulean and bishop’s violet
I see bloom and fade
God sees us coming nearer home

Trust

Trust

No moon
but light enough to walk the steep path to the shore

No moon
but silver gliding over the waves

No moon
though clouds ached with wanting to let light through

A glimpse of her round face
then gone again, not returning that night

Instead soft rain, warmer air, friends round a fire
and knowledge that somewhere she’s there.

Bare

I am late posting as I've had a difficult week, unable to settle to tasks, feeling lonely, restless. This poem is from Sunday:

I take down the decorations
lift tinsel from pictures
wrap glass globes
box colour, light and love
set free the patient tree
to breath the winter air
create space for what may come
make bare the room

Connections

My Trail - Wales

Basho's Trail - Japan

The two photographs above are so similar. At this time of year, I am always reflective, thinking about the past and how the future might be. The idea that Basho walked steps like I walked and that later we were moved to write poems seems to make a connection that transcends here, now, us, them - we are all on this journey.

Far apart, in time, in space
all of us climb the same steps
see the same seasons
try to make sense of lost leaves,
ourselves, our journeys.

Ache

A short one today - my little dog still not recovered and feeling shaken by the powerful film Changeling I saw last night - thinking how to protect the vulnerable, the innocent, the angels all around us ...

Ache

Love is an ache
letting down the one I love
hurts

The Dead

This photo was taken in November but the feeling of loss, of everything falling, applied to New Year's Day yesterday.

The Dead

The New Year’s here.
So many people I loved are not
and neither is the me I used to be -
I miss us all.

Abundance

Abundance

My cup runs over
with wine, rest and peace

friends bring other friends
washing our rooms with laughter

the small dog loves everyone
unreasonably

work waits for me patiently
new books line up like a smiling army

the sea’s in full swell this morning
someone’s arranged stripes of light on the hills

indoors, wire and foil imitate stars
sprinkling the night with eternity’s sparkle.

Thinking of Minnesota

This picture is Niall and Nessa at a dinner in Portland - made me nostalgic for NAPT ...

Communities of poets

wrapped in words

robed in words

crowned with words

in love with wonderful words

You going one way, me in the other

Yesterday, a friend left Cornwall for London, to live very close to where I did before I came to Cornwall. I was surprised at how emotional I felt - it brought back all the places I had left, the farewells and the ruptures of relationships - a new feeling for me as previously, it had always felt 'right' that people moved on. Last night, I went to two parties - one for someone who had turned 80, the other 50 - full of their communities, children, grandchildren, shared history. As a relative new-comer, no children, not much history, I felt honoured to be there.

I'm uploading a picture of some of my writing community - taken eighteen months ago, since when there have been many changes in circumstances for the people in it ... Here's my poem:

We're all smiling although later

many of us will shed tears

We're together although tomorrow

some of us will wake to the ache of loneliness

Born alone, to die alone, but for that moment

we're together, smiling, one.

Two months asleep

Yesterday was like midsummer - I walked through Nansidwell down to the beach where people were in swimsuits, picnicking. The woods are coming alive - wild garlic, celandines, the first bluebells, birds busy nesting. This morning, thick mist so that the sea is invisible.

Mist

As the mist outside

hides the boats, the sea, the sun

my mind clears -

April's here, something's begun.

Sit Under a Tree

I watched a BBC 2 Natural World programme called Earth Pilgrim on the internet. It featured Satish Kumar, an inspirational world figure, talking about his regular walks on Dartmoor. He quoted the Buddha as saying that if you want enlightenment you must sit under a tree - or that the reason we aren't enlightened is that we don't sit under enough trees.

I really wanted to do that today but it was cold! No, it wasn't cold - I was insufficiently warmly dressed! On Sunday when I took this photo, it was warm. The view is up along the River Helford in Cornwall and the tree looks very sittable-under.

What will the tree teach me?

Stillness, faith that spring will come

Hospitality in all my branches, twigs, leaves

and fruit offered to insects and birds

That the world offers itself, here and now

no need to go anywhere

That the earth provides sustanance

water, that I give the world wood and fire

That my roots go deep and my arms reach for the sky