Summer’s green light
shimmers in the leaves.
The seaside sounds
in a passing breeze.

Dark leaves, or lit,
in layers of dapple.
Patience is as sweet
as a ripening apple.


The Sun

Do not look at the Sun
or, even less wise,
build a vessel to take you there.
But when it has a grey cloud singed
to re-enact the Story of the Dawn,
and the part of you as simple as a child
unwraps the gift of joy it brings,
recall that when no hope’s in sight,
behind the darkness lies the light.

Season’s End

We dallied in a golden hour
When love was queen and still in power.
Now, the interregnum brings
Chaos, a return of rings,
Despair, disorder, a dream betrayed
Like Autumn leaves that fall and fade.
We were so young, but seasons turn
And all green leaves in time will burn.


The draining of a vast lung
in a cavernous mausoleum
at 2am. Or do I hear

the dark-embedded engine
of the slow-grinding globe,
or something alone, in pain,

that enters the brain through the ears
and cannot leave? O temptless Sleep,
your embrace would set it free.

The Haunted House

“That house! We stayed there!” The couple said
as I passed them at the garden gate.
“But never, never again!” And then they fled.

Undeterred, I entered, and met the priest.
In the dimness I saw his spectral face
like someone recently deceased.

And when he spoke, his voice was hollow,
as old as those beams of ancient oak.
“Fear not, my son, Christ I follow.

“I’ve exorcised this house, by His grace,
of two departed souls. Well, goodbye, my son.”
He left. And now I haunt the place.