Thursday, 22 August 2019

not cloud

not cloud
but a heaven of suns
rise or set
some saint walked
some fiddle-player stroked
bow over string
a bright hollow melody
turned the blue of sky
white with vapour
on a reel of heaven
a dance of sunrise
an air of air
© BH, 2019

Duncan Chisholm, the fiddle player, posted a sky over Galicia (with hashtag #SantiagoDe Compostella). I thought about skies, fiddle-players and saints walking. I wrote this in reply.

days to come

days to come
you will find out how
today’s days and minutes
laid the odds for our future

Monday, 19 August 2019

Slugabed Binion

Slugabed Binion from her bed by a brown-stained dresser wakes to morning. Wisps of dream still trickle from her teardrop eyes. Her thin, fair hair hides its grey in the time it takes to comb and comb, to brush away the truth. It falls in hatched straight lines and masks her silver with its gold. She sighs and puts a white hand to her face, the pale lip trembles in a memory till the red stick paints today across the edges of her smile.