I Am (perhaps)




If I am, 
      
            the things that I LOVE,


                        I am (perhaps) all these ... and so much MORE 





The sound of the wind among pine trees, 
skimming stones across a lake, 
the moon,
piles of fallen leaves,
cherries,
the scent of Earl Grey tea,
counting clouds, 
standing under the arc of a sodium street lamp
kissing,
the smell of the sea, 
silence, 







the call of the rook, 
the feel of rain in your hair,
sparks rising from a campfire, 
old pillar boxes,
the deep burgundy of a newly fallen conker,




letters written by hand, 
rain drops falling on still water,
pear drops (with a bit of the paper bag still stuck to them),
the mystery of life, 
coffee at a park kiosk on a sunny Sunday morning, 




sitting on a wooden style beside a country lane,
the slow whirr of a bicycle wheel at rest, 
plunging my hand into a sack of bird seed,
the sweet taste of fresh grass,
ragged, racing clouds,
the decayed opulence of the Fern House at Kew, 
trying to count the Pleiades, 
the colour of poppies under a stormy sky, 
wet city streets, 








Chinese lanterns,
the kick and tug of a kite string, 
marbles
sunlight through through coloured glass,
the smell of tomatoes growing in a greenhouse,
shy smiles,
shadows on a wall,
sitting quietly in a wood, 
splashing in puddles,
gentleness
thunder rolling among cathedral clouds,
the scent of wet tarmac after a hot sticky day
buskers,
Converse trainers,
shaving on a Sunday morning,







old wooden signposts that point down winding roads, 
the feeling of a more ancient time when standing on a prehistoric barrow, 
laughing, 
the stillness of a moonlit meadow, 
the smell of autumn, 
moleskine notebooks,
the call of an ancient language, 
the feeling on entering a bookshop, 
bonfire smoke on an autumnal afternoon,
candle light







































6 comments:

  1. How can one live any other way - particularly as one's skin appears to get thinner and the soul more alive?

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  2. wow..........colour of poppies under a stormy sky .....
    small small joys........

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  3. Earth poetry. Pagan powerful. Loved it.

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  4. It seems we have crossed paths in more ways than one… – so much here that identifies me, as well…. I used to wander around Kew, several days a week, too (inhabiting its secret – and not so secret – corners…)!

    ReplyDelete

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