Plinth

Yes, I remember Grantham—
The name and the association—
Because one day in the autumn
Of a year, my train connected.

Shunted on some railway triangle
This way, that way, forwards and back,
Till I ran across bridges to travel
North away from Thatcher’s England.

Sea Change

shore to shore
an ocean rolls its silence up
conceals its secret places

from us

Undying Art

Poetry was never dying:
always alive, it lay sleeping
in doorways, stepped over
by people looking somewhere else.

spark

the truth
has finally dawned
no-one calculated
the cost of the wind
as we should have
building for
tomorrow

JFMAMJJASOND

January cold taxes the purse.
February remembers love for a time
While winter deals its worst.
March gives us reason
For changing the season
As wind blows through like a curse.