The Missing Tree

The first little taster of the book to be published on Amazon for Kindle.

The trees stretched on to an unseen horizon; to look too far ahead made your vision wobble broken as it was by so many tall, thin pillars of wood. There were fields and fields of them split into age groups; saplings separated by a thin path way from their mature future selves. This was our playground, our place of freedom, privacy, exploration and worship. It took on any purpose we could need; 40:40, catch, hide and seek, moon landings, den building that invented settlements for goodies and badies, cowboys, witches, fairies, mummies and daddies, doctors and patients and show jumping extravaganzas. There were about seven of us who met in summer evenings and weekends in any season to create our own world for a few hours. We were on strict orders of time keeping and bedtimes but I do not remember there being any fear over our playing outside, away from home. I would think twice about allowing a child out into the empty world now but maybe I am changed by what happened. We all were.

With Courage Nothing Is Impossible

I wrote this for Robbie after staying near St Davids Life Boat station. The title line is inspired by the inscription on a memorial sculpture at the RNLI HQ in Poole. 

With courage nothing is impossible,

With bloodied eye to see,

On shaking sunset inflatable,

Yellow boots to steady legs,

Chasing at briny dreams.

With courage nothing is impossible,

Trespassed on this crashing scene,

A giant’s clutch indestructible,

Gloved hands reach with certain touch,

To take back time’s last breath. 

Love Past Tense

A man perches on a half finished roof top,

On the wooden rail that holds the tarp down,

His feet up on the edge of board that marks the wall,

Smoking a cigarette and texting his girlfriend.

He should call her his ex really.

But he can’t get used to that term yet.

He stops himself from adding an I love you,

Pausing to look out across his vantage point.

To the houses that are already built,

Orange red brick from decades ago,

Square and sturdy with walls that are thick.

He presses send quick and stubs out the cigarette.

The forklift has delivered batches of roof tiles

Which he begins to move from one end

Of the scaffolding to another to make room

For more. More of the same identical humped slats.

A mate calls up a quip from the ground and he

Finds himself smiling in spite of knowing

That soon she will be round collecting her bits.

Keys on the table,  gone before he gets home.

A pause while the forklift brings another load.

He checks his phone leaning up against that roof.

Yes she says. This afternoon will be fine.

He tries to ignore that bit at the end; love past tense.

Beech Tree in February

I look through the year long leaf,

This time auburn brown and will be

Until the spring comes and new ones

Appear in a silky green

That isn’t pretend but should be

For all it’s perfect crispness.

I want just this once to see what

It looks like from above

To see what I look like when I’m not down here.

It’s easy to climb all the way to the top.

I’ve seen Dad do it before.

He used a ladder but I don’t need to.

You see I’m not taking anything away

Like he was. I’m only going up to see

What I’m missing by being me.

I swing myself up first like my brother always told me.

Get some momentum, not too much and then

Your footing comes next and suddenly you’ve begun.

It only gets easier from then on in as you pull your feet

Up after your body and find footing to reach on from.

It doesn’t take long, you’d be surprised

Maybe a minute and a bit but less than two.

Here I am at the top and I can see

Everything.

I can see you easily and out past to the other trees.

The ones that aren’t captured but are free to grow

Together on the ridge above the sheep field.

They look dirty somehow and not as pretty.

They don’t have coverings of their own yet

But are half drowned in parasitic leaves of ivy.

The houses look small and the people inconsequential

Just as you are I suppose.

I am unsure of how long it will take to get down

Of how long until you will peep and peer

Through the window or call out the door.

I don’t want to be discovered here.

Just as you don’t want me to understand.

But I know it will not be the same to know

What is up here. To pretend like before.

 I will keep it to myself this new revelation.

Just as the hawk keeps private it’s elation.

Happy not to share the airborne secrets

With any more than is strictly necessary.

Because now it has gone on too long for me

To admit that you didn’t know anything at all.

General Dreaming:

I wonder what I am doing here,

With this palace so very near.

The glittering spires and rigid white,

A hidden jewel of nearly night.

To go, to go,

But, oh, to know.

If my purpose is true and great.

If for me these people wait.

I could be a sworn in Queen,

A ringmaster, a General, long and lean,

In those breeches and fancy coats,

Firing arrows over castle moats.

Yes, that’s who I’ll be a General fierce,

My voice will thunder, my eyes will pierce.

Fear and respect will be my reward,

As I set out to bind that accord,

From our enemies brave and bright,

Wonderous and cowering at our might,

Then home I’ll ride, two days hard going.

My dehydrated consciousness toing and froing.

A heroes welcome for my near expired self.

A bed, a nurse and rest back to health.

Then a ceremony, medals, a party that’s wild.

Dancing with men who are excited and riled.

Then, at the end one who’s gentle,

A brave and cunning and handsome Sentinel.

Months will pass and we will marry,

We plan a child, we will call him Harry.

And then I’ll be both Mother and Wife,

No longer the solver of our Kingdom’s strife.

I’ll wonder if maybe it was all a dream,

Perhaps after all I am only a Queen.