The Girl and Her Tiger: Wandering Together When the fog rolled over the northern moors, doors were shut and lights went on. A practice designed to keep away the wisps which danced and the voices which talked and led anyone, foolish enough to walk in the fog, far away to never returned. Like the little …
Splatter: A Poem
I painted the door nicked, splattered and haphazard.
I opened the chaos, found a room made of black shapes.
I tripped on a shadow stretched across the floor, beamed
with yellow still trickling, out the rectangular frame behind.
I found a torch and searched the room. Watched, as shapes
danced in pair with shadows on the walls. In the door of this house.
If I Wander Too Far: Will You Come Find Me on the Wings of Birds?
The Wanderer
If I wander too far, leave a light in the window.
Let it burn and burn until I return
upon the wing of puffins.
I’ll come riding, on a squall of cherry blossoms.
I’ll come visit you, grandfather, with a reed basket stuffed with nuts
and pine boughs to decorate your home.
The squirrel who lives in your attic will chirp and chatter.
The deer will scatter and the bear will groan.
But you, dear grandfather, can you sing me home?
I miss your song, fiddled over the drum beat of tides.
I miss you stories, whispered between the cracked voice of hearth fire.
Though far I’ve been, to foggy moors and crumbled castles,
I miss the mysteries of home.
I sent you a letter, by humpback. Have you gotten it?
If I wander to far, leave the light in the window.
Through the winter fog and sheets of rain.
I will find my way home again.
Listen for the flutter of wings.