One March – but nearly – April day,
Under an unseen sun,
The Seven Sisters misty lay
All waiting for some fun.
Young couples amorously strolled
And picnicked on the dizzy heights
All unaware, quite unalarmed,
Enjoying love’s delights.
The Seventh Sister listening lay
Under the yellowing sky
Then suddenly twitched her green-clad limb
In murderous jealousy…
Soon we will have lost
Our regular sightings
My mother appreciated them
With excited yells of
“A train, a train!”
But we thought
“Yes, yes, a train – so?”
But each day now
The building site grows;
Blocking, threatening, an actual pain.
Soon we shall no longer
See the 7.39
Flashing along the line,
Its dozen carriages
Making the rising sun
Flicker through the gaps.
I wish I’d been more appreciative
My mum was right
To let it excite her.
Salmon, peeled plum and henna dye,
Bruised flesh, pale peach with aubergine,
Amber, honey, antique gold
Paint the late palette of the sky.
Framed by frinking fronds of palms –
Rustling, jostling, flirting, fencing –
Green bayonets piercing darkening blue,
They guard the casket with their arms.
The trade wind shakes the clouds apaprt;
Changed hues bedeck the glowing west.
The new kaleidoscope reveals
Bleached bronze, wet lilac, fire’s heart.
p.10 The Green Man, Arun Poetry Club, published 1999/2000.