Thrumming of rain
In the morning
Steel roof
Orange lit sky
Bursts at dusk
Mountain shadow
Cadence of breath
Skip of steps
Sand and waves
Key of a song
Tells the tale
Of love's bond

Thrumming of rain
In the morning
Steel roof
Orange lit sky
Bursts at dusk
Mountain shadow
Cadence of breath
Skip of steps
Sand and waves
Key of a song
Tells the tale
Of love's bond

How wholesome, it was said
We did meet by river bed
Rock pools swirling
Dreaming of past lives at sea.
Our shared love of its creatures
A saltwater one, like me.
Stories of islands, voyages, cabin mates amd treasures found in giant clam shells.
Obsessions with tropical rainforests laden with a kaleidescope of butterflies.
Photographs in our minds of oceans, still as a pool with only the splash of flying fish disturbing the miniscus of brightly lit surface at sunset.
Within weeks, the cracks show
The lives of loves lost at sea a favourite sea shanty
Mine like sleeping volcanoes dotting the edges of tectonic plates all over the Pacific. Yet, their mere breath a flourishing of life, feeding schools of every species ocean wide.
The great diversity of my mind.
I did not lose my skin nor dignity, though sailing too close to the wind.
To one solo creature I hold dear, the ocean many leagues deep knows how far apart love and envy are.
Fair winds and following seas.

In the North
On this day
A million Painted Ladies
Drifted on highways
Of warm s'easterlies
Descended upon wild ancient
Lands remembered
To cocoon, feast and rise once again.
Artistic impressions of papillons
Adorn my door, socks, scarf
My eyes have never gazed upon
Such species near or far.
Do they dwindle and fade,
Will glossy scales fall?
Inevitably, yes
In a day.
How perfect that nature's most subtle beauty
Would feast on loathesome thistle, so thoroughly
To cause a whole crop to fail.
As I nestle in seasons of woven tales from near and far
Aran Islands to Chile
I, too, weave a cocoon
Each to each stitch laid bare, thoughts of places
I've never seen
Near and far -
Some I'd never dare
For slowly, I too, will lose the gloss of youth.
Not before I, and many more
Ravenously erode the fields
of prickly weed
For, come spring -
Who knows what I might be.

Poem inspired by the film, Wilding, 2025.
The tide is high
But I'm holding on...

Let compassion
Soak in
Like water
Through sand

Forces of deep
All it keeps
Eventually
Rises up

Forgive me for being
Curious, open, willing
Honest as they come
Naivety swills within
Rambunctious stories
Jig me in with
Hands that have held
Wild things
Champion blend in surrounds
All the ink I spilled
When wild stories hurt to hold in
The promise of getting old
One day with you
When you had me
At octopus

We stop. Start.
Unparalleled universes
Yet familiar
Silence descends
Music elevates
Ups and downs
We cannot account for
Mysterious darkness
Truth of light reveals
Eyes are windows
Blinds closed
Cradle to grave
Only eternal sea knows

Daily trifles flutter
Fall as the breeze
Tensions ease
Further away you go

Life abounds on the edge
We always knew the rainbow
Not lines of solid colours
A spectrum of hues
Our very DNA intermingles
Since time immemorial
Generations of story tellers
Minced with scientific truths
A new kind of love walks around
Nods at one another,
Knowingly
Formerly L, G, B or Q
Now are plus beings
Who love one not defined
By straight lines
Yet familiar it is, human
With fruiting bodies
Taking on attributes
Of one another
Perfect symmetry of life
