Foxes

I saw the old fox in his den
in hiding with his family
around him
fragile and unsteady
with a long past behind
he sees no future
yet is content in that knowing
his fear is limited by
brief time remaining

I saw the young fox cub
basking in the sun
alone
fragile and unsteady
with no past to guide him
his future unscripted
yet his fear tells him
he must run to escape
from me

a place between two rivers

The Forest of Dean

A long way from anywhere

Framed by two rivers

The Severn

The Wye

 

On the west bank of the Severn

My home for eight years

Tidal, fast flowing

Waves ricocheting

I am calmed

 

From this side I gaze across

And look back

To the east

The river runs through

The Bore rages

 

Past life left behind

On the other bank

My present one

Here now

Flowing steadily

 

The Bore booms

Between the banks

Memories of the past flood in

Waves bursting with future

Ride her passion

 

A choice was made and understood

One side is merely

A different perspective

To the other

The tide the meeting of river and sea

 

I don’t ride the wave

Though my heart surfs on it

Beating to the drum of the tides

In a forest

Between the Severn & the Wye

 

 

soft lead pencil

escherSoft lead pencil

Gently guided by hand

Crafts the lines of its echo

Smudging as it draws

Leaving gossamer timelines

Shimmering on the paper

 

Graphite grey and gleaming

Flesh drawn, flesh drawing

Pencil tip to wrist rises to knuckles

Knuckles to fingers

Fingertip to pencil

Endless crafting

 

Looping of life

The thumb of the left

Stubbier than the other

As if a sleight of hand

Has erased the tip

An accident of birth

 

Lead crafts life

And life crafts lead

One leads

One follows

Tracing each other

Endlessly

 

 

With love to Escher, a constant inspiration in my life

 

paired

Paired

In 2001 Sue Thomas gave her sister

A pair of earrings for her birthday

Wafer-thin motherboards

Metal as fine as lace

Nodes where knots would be

Linked not by choice but by design

 

Five years older than Carolyn

Sue was a Professor

Always more grown up

Than Carolyn could ever be

That fact would never go away

Nor would the fact they are sisters

 

Six years later

Carolyn rediscovered one of the earrings

She hung it in her room, alone

And admired its delicacy

Often wondering

Where the other might be

 

Seven years later it reappeared

Surprisingly in her garage

Files tipped out of a cardboard box

Onto a dusty concrete floor

Revealed the earring

Hooked underneath the inside flap

 

Together again, the network reconnected

Sharp words and edges catching

Both flesh and thread

Memory restored

Joined

Like a paired device