Crash Landing


Snowball red
Burns past trees
Icy ski slope

A hidden hill
Weightless air
I soar, landing

Staring up
Blue sky
A calm quiet
Waking hands
Rescue warm
Burning ice
Skin pink
Raw alive
Do you miss the ski

The rush of flight
Succumbs to snow
I miss that quiet

This poem came from reflections on rushing through life- is it really those fast adrenaline-filled flights we will look back on? Though I have enjoyed fast downhill runs, sometimes those quiet moments where we can’t do anything (trapped in snow) bring a unique and deep calm.


Girl on the Street

Hi to any readers! I’ve been thinking about all those people living on the street, now that the weather here in England has turned cold and snowy. This poem is for them.

I’m holding a mirror
to the girl on the street.
What’s your name she asks
the glass and who
knocked you low?

She offers her cup
says I’ll tell you a
secret- look here
a diamond tear
among the coins
they throw.

You’ve a wool hat
like mine and golden curls
rough, a sweet smile –
a deer’s breath in snow.

She leaves the cup there
and the next day
it snows.

No one knows where
she’s gone folded
into the fog
another diamond
laying low.

In the glass I find
a cup full of the blues
and a secret that I keep
from the angel on the street.