A PEARL WITHIN AN OYSTER

There is a place

where jewelled cobwebs

dot the hillside

my father’s smile

never wavers

and the rocks

feel solid beneath my feet.

The mist swirls in the valleys

a potent sea

spewing stories

which my brother

conjures out of the vaporous void.

A magician

spinning a different web each day.

And yet it is I

who tell tales now.

Fishing in that timeless sea

of the past

finding

old shoes

a rotted corpse

but sometimes

a pearl within an oyster…

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CHILDHOOD RAIN

Rain in childhood

falls without explanation

simply pouring out of the sky

we do not dance in it (like my children will one day)

but don raincoats and unfurl umbrellas

stoically set out for our Saturday evening walk.

hand in hand

two by two

a twisting navy blue crocodile

creeping between two green slopes

one stretches upwards

draped with silver sheets which reach down

like Rapunzel’s hair inviting us

into the castle of the sky

the other tumbles down

into a shrouded sea, daring us to

surrender to its shadowy embrace.

the navy blue crocodile wriggles on

postponing the moment of decision

waiting for the sun to shine and the mist clear.