Four Seasonal Haiku

Spring Haiku

Bursting from the Earth
seeds of future willow trees
bough to your maker


Summer Haiku

Here's to you my friend
a bright bouquet of fine thoughts
Summer has no end


Autumn Haiku

Red-gold Autumn leaf
a fickle tumbler turning
bones of trees to come


Winter Haiku

Frozen here in time
petals in icy water
take your breath away

Sark 2

As you move your
shopping trolley down
endless aisles of irresistible
consumables, thoughts orchestrated by
muzak, bright coloured visions
of another possible life,
remember this.

I am distracted elsewhere
on another isle, its
rocks eroded by a million years
of tide and wind, a lone gull's
cry in a blue enamel sky its
only soundtrack, my mind
a shifting mosaic, those
bright intrusive colours
of you

Glenn Gould Plays Bach (and wins)

Humming along
He builds the structure
from architectural
sounds and pauses

Fingers become
keys, notes, spirit
of J.S.Bach

There's a moment
when it ceases
to be music

It is pure silence
interrupted

West Bromwich Blues (1969)

Late night.
On the yellow light-streaked streets
I hear the thumping
bass & wailing harp muffled
from the basement of the
Cassa Bamboo.

The Cassa Bamboo,
by day the haunt of
frothy coffee drinking
philosophers, down at
heel philanderers & permed
escapees from Cammie & Cadman.

Now closed like a mouth, in
near darkness, it throbs
like a great heart.
giving out its rhythm to
the empty street
to the wet pavement.

Across the street
shoulders hunched, moving
between pools of sodium light
a beautiful (to my eyes) exotic
Asian girl, walking
in time to the music.

Not for her the neat arrangements,
or customary future.
tight jeans, afghan coat, streaming
jet-black hair, swept back by ringed fingers. this is '69
her spirit is finding its wings.

There's a brief eye contact,
a shy smile, blues fades,
drizzle remains.
I never did get to learn
the name of that blues
(or see her again)