What made us laugh?

What made us laugh, that time,
Do you remember?
How we howled and rolled on our backs,
You clutching your waist and me weeping,
It took us like a fever, or waves,
Another surge rising with each moment,
Wild and loose and loud.

But what made us laugh, that time?
I can't remember how we began,
Only the little lines in the corners of your eyes,
And the fullness of your smile,
And how, after, we lay there for an hour catching our breath,
Exhausted by joyfulness.

Snowfall

Fat snowflakes fall like ash
too gappy to be graceful.
Inbetween, the frigid air mixes
with heat bellowed from the back of a bus.

Hunched shoulders and bowed heads break
their unsteady tumbling flight.
And just one or two upturned faces,
remembering our giddiness on rising.

Pyjamas under coats and boots worn sockless
in our haste, when snow was an illusion,
and we spun like tops, mad with laughter
and ran without fear of falling.

The door of a chicken shop flung wide
brings memories of hot morsels,
wrapped tight in greaseproof paper,
savoured in chapped hands.

And for a precious minute
we recall the simple, honest joys
that fade too fast, and are little remembered,
until we lift our faces, to the falling snow.

Water

We are all compelled by water
Drawn from, brought to, returning
Rocked, drip-by-drip into easing
A whisper that drowns out the world

Beckoned by the river mouth's call
And the sea's timeless rhythm
By the clash of waves, full of power
Meeting arms outstretched for battle

By comprehension of its vastness
And tippy feeling of its balance
By the unity of fluid and flow
That we cannot mimic

It flows over us, through us, beyond us
And, with its too soon turned tide
Quiets all storms
And calls us home

Arrival

Wearily, we drive, the unworthy.
Our highway lit in rhythm.
A regular beat of orange and black.

Departed, we are not there yet.
Unarrived, at conversation, at optimism.
Unarrived at wonder and at hope.

Covering the many miles between were and will be,
We are patient. Patient until we are absent.

Stop. Set me down here.

I am not content to wait as lights pass me.
There is not enough of life upon this road.

Quiet storm

A storm came in the night
And tore a hole in the world
Whipping and lashing the earth

Wind beat the ground as if to challenge
As if to carry us away
Or claim us

And roots strained against it
And leaves flew with it
And yesterday's breath crossed continents

And all lights went out
And nothing could be heard over its howl
As the clouds cracked and fell

While you slept on
Awoke to drizzle
And chose shoes for the damp ground

And I lay awake
Eye to eye with chaos
Lost in the wild sky

Words on pain

Ok, let’s talk about physical pain
I want you to see so I’ll try to explain
How right now it’s brutal, it cuts to the grain
And the truth is that under that strength you admire
I'm struggling with pain and it burns like a fire
And every step lifts the ache up a bit higher
Til I can't see over it, I'm lost, I'm pulled under
I feel the lightning but you hear no thunder
And it feels like my body is being torn asunder
Yes, it's hard to relate if you've never been wounded
Now your sympathy’s rapidly getting diluted
And they gave me a stick but I don't like to use it
My shoulder at least should be taking the strain
But the help that they give is just moving the pain
And I want some relief through this lyrical vein
But I eat and I sleep and it won't go away
And you speak but I can't hear a word that you say
My eyes have glazed over, I'm falling away
And this isn't some spiritual hurt in some place
This is real and my life is now being erased
And you joke as if you don't know what else to say
But this isn't a game and I don't want to play

Down Time

There are no clocks in my mother's house,

We wake to our own rhythms.

Sometimes at four am, not moving,

But listening to the quiet breathing of the walls,

The creak of beams and gentle 'click, whoosh' as the heating engages.

We rise with the sun, early.

At breakfast we spread butter like cheese on hot crumpets,

And make no plans beyond the brewing of tea,

Oblivious to the passing of minutes.