full circle
We shared the pre-dawn hours again, that night
no peaceful passing, yours
nor coming, mine
You who struggled through the dark to give me life
and laboured now, to stay
As each successive breath outran its vital fight
another gathered, rose;
each one time’s gift,
each stubborn gasp contracted, held, released
the creation of life, inch by inch
An end, again, with the dawn; your fragile burden,
vanquished, ceased its meaning
with one small breath
The end of life as precise as its start;
A gentle exhalation, no more.


If you need me

I’ll be in the potting shed

Somewhere amongst those half folded packets

Of promised life

Those tumbled pots and dusty tools 

The wire and tangled rope

Of summers past

Raising life now second nature

For these hands

Called to push

Each seed into a dark and warm embrace

Each small hope

Into its earthly nest, 

To root, burrow

and grow, spring up,

flower and

set seed for other hands

To sow

In the potting shed



As autumn spreads her shabby beauty wide

and half-remembered warmth makes lovers, fools

her fading glory holds the sunset fast,

with dusk her ebbing grandeur gently cools

as too, our lives, like seasons, cannot last

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