Not Warming,

My first piece of writing on here for a while, I have stopped travelling so much, and time is full of work and commute. I am trying to keep all my time together and use it well.

Storm Classification

What happens when we use up all the names
for storms that whipcrack race to us
across the Atlantic?

Ready to lift trees, roots and most of our life.
We weather the storm, the ground opened
and the push pull vacuum.

We weather the clawing at the windows,
scoured walls, pock-marked by debris
as the dust settles to a silence, a wait.

Here now the milk moon is clear sky bright
and full to drag the tides high, to drag us all
into pitiless grayscale light.

We are such poor shadows without the sun,
in the new silence of un-named storms.
We stand and watch on opened ground,

waiting for rain that clears the sky,
breaks the shadow hold on watchers
hidden in the doorways. Waiting for spring

and the tidal race we find the world 
has turned her back on us. The weather is coming,
and the world turns with the coming storm.

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There’s a Storm in the Air

Storm Eunice is heading our way, so we are bracing ourselves for the windiest day of the year. I know, it’s only February but hey. It’s going to be a big one. I took advantage of finishing early today to go get some images of an abandoned caravan on my way home. Just a few shots but I like them.

I’ve been slowly getting back to writing over the last few months and on Saturday we will be holding the first in person meeting of our poetry group since lockdown began two years ago, it will I hope be successful. I am struggling with my current piece, part the end of something, part cathartic, it comes and goes. Each change brings ideas and fears. Do I want to write this? Can I finish it to make it work for others as well as myself. We’ll see.

I hope no-one has any problems with Eunice. Stay safe out there.