Starlings reprise, two years on

Songs of the Everyday

When did the starlings fly?
I did not hear their sweet goodbyes.
Only the candy floss caught in the cypress trees
Tugs gently at my memories
Of festivals already come and gone.
Leave me to winter’s misty song.

My little starlings, close your eyes.
There’s time for one more lullaby
Before the dust from your impatient feet
Wells up among those cypress trees.
You will go forth to right our wrongs;
Leave us to winter’s lonely song.

Come darling there’s no need to cry.
Those simple truths are also lies
That tell us that they must be free.
That’s cotton wool up in those cypress trees.
Let others go to right their wrongs;
Leave us to winter’s bracing song.

Starlings

Songs of the Everyday

Where do the starlings fly,
When summer storms retreat to amber falls
And fields swelling in the salty breeze
Now harden into smokey stubble
Rough and familiar against your cheek?

Now that we’ve kissed our last goodbyes
Beneath a sky evaporating into grey
Beneath the final wishes of a feeble sun
When all the pretty days are gone,
Where do the starlings fly?

Morning glory

Songs of the Everyday

Outside there is a mist.
I’m hiding inside the duvet,
watching the little gauze curtain
swaying in the rising heat of the radiator.
I curl and uncurl my feet pleasurably.
You forget what a luxury a duvet is.
I know I need to get up and go out
into the mist to the hills which I can see now
only just through the bedroom window.
The light is coming up fast now
and soon it will be late.  So I must go
to where the worlds of night and day
collide and love and part in vapour.
With this small feat
I will begin my conquest.

Where to

Visions

Where do the starlings fly,
When summer storms retreat to amber falls
And fields swelling in the salty breeze
Now harden into smokey stubble
Rough and familiar against your cheek?

Now that we’ve kissed our last goodbyes
Beneath a sky evaporating into grey
Beneath the final wishes of a feeble sun
When all the pretty days are gone,
Where do the starlings fly?

The morning after

Visions

There is a certain lightness.
From absinthe’s vapours?
Or conversations with long-absent friends,
remembered scents and secret glances
at pretty freckles and forbidden skin?

Or could it be the leafy whirlpools
of a mild autumn’s day?

But still, a certain likeness –
a whispering of wanton lips,
that leaves behind in last night’s mist
a trail of my discarded burdens
and that imagined goodnight kiss.

– o –

November 2010-February 2011

How do you feel?

Songs of the Everyday

The sun is shining. The sky blue. The autumn air crisp.
How do I feel?

Your status updates blow about like fragments of successful living.
How do you do?

When did we talk?
When did you open up your heart and bare your mind?
When did we start assuming,
And observing from afar
With all that clandestine disinterest
Through dessicated templates that we claimed to have discarded
Long ago?

When did you last unbutton that horrific straitened jacket
And show your bare white skin?
Is it so long ago, you leant towards me
Your lips tempting me with your unbuttoned blouse?
When will you stop pretending I’m not here
As I stand here right in front of you,
Too monstrous to acknowledge,
Naked and awkward?

Are you feeling awkward?

Well, how do you do?

– 0 –

September 2010

Summer ending

Songs of the Everyday

When the haze clears
The sea moves closer.
The distant unknowns of the horizon are now within reach,
And the islands perched on top of its razor edge
Tease the eye with only half concealed mysteries.

Her hot brown skin is covered with the finest sun bleached down.
As I look closer,
The ever more familiar pores and wrinkles
Are a shifting and expanding landscape,
That teases me with half concealed curves.

The air cools.
The days relax in their afternoons’ long shadows.
The excited din in glistening heat and waves
Is now replaced by a contented quiet.
The sea is a skin
Covering the world.

– 0 –

Punta Ala, Tuscany, 1 September 2010