The Swan

I had thought myself
at the edge
of the soft-flowing
held in the grip
of the Earth,
of cool grass
around my own.
Then she came.
The fluid curve of neck
long and white,
the sailing, soft wings
like a chariot,
putting dancers
to shame
with her perfect
lines and
unconscious grace.
Did she know,
when her feral eyes
met my searching ones,
how beautiful she was?
I only know
what I felt
in the brief glimpse
of shared sight.
She, wild,
saw me, tame,
and suddenly
I was known
as a creature
one with all nature,
a breathing thing
among many brothers
and sisters 
under the sky.
She sailed on until,
a white cloud, 
she was carried 
round the bend
and away.
But she did not 
leave my heart,
for she had given
me myself.
I recognised
what I had forgotten
-I was home.


Two Short Stories

Hello readers,

I haven’t posted in a poem in awhile- I have been writing, but somehow nothing has formed that I feel is share-able.

Meanwhile, this month I’ve had two short stories published- read them for free at Page&Spine online magazine. Perhaps there are small glimmers of poems within them.

Man and Boy:

Girl from the Sea:

Love to all,

Sweet Sweet

Screen shot 2016-08-02 at 23.02.44

I cannot do justice to my cat, but I will post this anyway.  He is evoking a lot of writing as my companion of 14 years has a progressive kidney disease. I can see those wings of his clearer and clearer every day. May they take him far when he flies to a world that deserves him.

The White Hare

a rabbit
lonely in
the snow.

He doesn’t know
I love his
thin-tipped antennae ears
his moon-puff of tail
and the trembling
of his whiskers.

His hind legs shoot
a powerful leap
-he disappears
white against white

the wind must have
caught my scent

was he glad
to have been noticed
(just a little?)

or was
the color
of love
turned to
black fear
in all his white

I wrote this last year, and have recently dusted it off. I unfortunately have never seen an arctic hare, but was glad to meet one in this poem. I imagine they are just like that, moon-tail and all.


A net of oysters
Laughing in winter rain
We cast it
Into the darkness

We sweat salt
Our hearts pulse
Red waves in
A flaming sunrise

Singing, one voice
From many, one hand
From many, we
Drag the net
From dark depths

Awed, struck
Spray salts our faces
As if we were weeping
We lift the net
To find pearls
Where oysters lay sleeping

Author’s note: I am interested in what you think this poem is about. I have had some interesting readings from friends- it says different things to people. Let me know what it says to you (if anything) Thanks! Inky

A New Year

Shadows overcome
by a sudden blue.

Light lifts into
a stronger white
exposing bare branches
calling forth green.

The near hope
of almost Spring.

I wait clustered
with my dim,
golden, warm
things, huddled
against Winter’s

In March you
leave and I
start again.