HEARSAY

        HEARSAY

I walked all the way from town
And it was such a dark night.
The moon slipping in and out
Of the silent sky,
As if it were newly silvered
And couldn’t bear to be hidden.

My steps sounding as loud
As a snapped branch in the wind,
I jumped off the paving
Onto the dirt path running by the river,
Where, every now and then,
Stars sailed in the water and drowned.

I was always told, as a certainty,
That the young men marched down here,
Heading to where their Lovers
And watchful mothers waited.
Getting so close to home,
Their shadows sparkled on closed doors,
Their feet stepping quietly
Down the garden path, mostly on the grass,
Not to waken those still listening.

The world quivered at such tenderness,
Night folding in upon itself,
Folding in upon love, adding and multiplying.

The dog barked and the cat
Wound around a frill of empty air,
And someone in the sleeping house
Looked out of a window,
There was nothing to be seen.

But, as everyone knows, that didn’t mean
No-one was there.

                      © 2021 Gwen Grant              

ALWAYS OUT THERE

seagull

Watching the sudden seagulls in the garden, I wondered what brought
them here as we are miles from any seawater.  We have had  a lot of
flooding water but they’re not interested in that.  Perhaps it seems a
more sympathetic environment but I used to think that if they stayed
too long, the magpies would gang up on them. Now, I’m not so sure
after reading a whole bunch of stories of their extreme aggression during
these pandemic times. A misty afternoon with seagulls like snowflakes and
a ginger cat furious about being kept inside.

ALWAYS OUT THERE

Those seagulls in our garden
Are a long way from water.
Doing what we all do, I suppose,
Looking for a future
Just a little bit better.

© 2019 Gwen Grant

WOLF WIND

light2

 
WOLF WIND

The wind comes wary,
Like a quiet wolf
Sneaking through the trees,
Watching what’s lying
In front of him.

This house blown down,
That tree uprooted.
The whole of one small town
Wrecked by the wolf wind’s fury.

Except for that little corner
Where Lovers plot and plan
       their glowing future.
Feeling the wolf’s sharp teeth
       nibbling,
They kiss and deny him.
Rap his nose and send him home

        crying.

       ©2021 Gwen Grant

  BLUE STRAWBERRIES

  BLUE STRAWBERRIES

I dreamt last night
Of blue strawberries,
The field they grew in
So big and so blue
It tilted the sky,
Until the world turned upside down.

The sea,
Thundering and roaring,
Fell upon us
Catching us unaware.

Yet, as the waves
Swept us away
None of us were sorry.
Too busy looking forward
To a new beginning,
To a scrubbed clean version
Of an old tomorrow,
Full of blue strawberries.

For if they were there,
Who knows what else
Was waiting for us.

Hope, for certain.

                       ©2021 Gwen Grant

MARCH HARES

MARCH HARES

March Hares
Boxing in the middle of the big field.
The wide white light of the moon
Tearing shadows into fragments
Of black and white confetti.

These magical creatures,
Owned by witches and wizards,
Bring magic with them.

They are the first to see darkness
Detach itself from the silent hedgerows.
The first to hear hunters
Drop to the cold ground,
To steal the hare’s likeness
For their photograph albums.
Greedy to capture the joyful secrets
Of wild creatures made of magic,
Eyes full of white moonlight,
Ears that semaphore night secrets.

Witches and wizards hiding
In the darkness of fretwork trees,
Balancing on stones in icy rivers.
To scare away those who desire
To see the beauty of March hares,
Boxing in white moonlight.
                  
                     © 2021 Gwen Grant