A Little Drop of Rain

This little drop of rain
hits my reddened cheek,
sliding like ice cream
off a warmed up stick.
Sweetest of Summer splashes
yet salty like my tears.

 

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Helium Balloons do Land Eventually

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I fly
swollen with tears,
like a helium latex balloon,
stretched and filled with air….
I had a large green one, once
when I was seven.
They were new…. nothing
like it had ever been seen in
our little, sober village
where neighbours gossiped
and stabbed each other in
the back with words.
I just wanted the helium balloon
to carry me away…..
way up, way out, way beyond….
where I didn’t have to be
squeezed in my heart, in my soul.
Now, I realise my balloon did come.
Music carried me away…
way up, way out, way beyond anything
I ever knew there in the little village
with their little tiny thoughts and heavy lives.
As swollen rivers burst their banks
so too do swollen, red-rubbed eyes ….
then water flows and the pressure drops.
Helium balloons do land, eventually.

Weeping Silver

Weeping Silver

Today I saw with my own eyes,
absurd, nauseating disgrace of the lopping 
of splendidly healthy branches.
So tall, such magnificence of this Silver Birch
at 68 along the street, weeping pools of rising sap.
It is weeping I tell you 
and cannot be stopped…
Can we be stopped, we who create carnage?
I weep for Birch and Beasts 
and the Waking Up of us all.