Beckoning

A deluge in May,
Kerbside surface spray,
Torrents overwhelm
Dank country lanes.

Driving in low gears,
Waterfall chicanes,
Wrong latter ways,
Reminds me of childhood

And leaping over streams
Beneath a tarn-light bay,
Beside a dead man’s seam
In long-lost dreams

And longer lesser days.
Over there, a castle, see,
Its ghosts roam free
Through basements, attics

And these oak-pannellings
Overlooking a sodden
Village green;
Stumps received,

And sandwiches filled with
Cucumber and cheese;
The church hall leak,
Well, we can fix,

While men in linen-whites
Played winning willow innings,
Then ominous rains returned,
And a beckoning for tea.

I Caught A Certain Joyousness

I caught a certain joyousness
In a potter’s wheel,
The pedal turns the morning rain
Upon my windowsill.

I found a flawless form of light
In a Blacksmith’s Arms,
She called me from a willow trunk
And brought me out of harm.

I followed through a rabbit hole
The image of myself,
Rolling down a childhood hill,
For childhood was my wealth.

And though my wealth was stolen,
And placed upon a bark,
I sailed across an ocean bare
And dreaming in the dark.

Nothing good may come this way
To remedy what’s past;
That isolated bairn has gone,
The future now is cast.