I can hear her
Singing to the radio in the autumn kitchen 
The tap roars on and off  
Dishes clang
As my mind wanders 

Sat under a blanket 
I turn off my own music to hear hers 
I let my heart check it’s own pulse 
At once, I’m in both rooms 
Clinging to this moment before it slips

I am the tool from an early age 
Twice the size of a human hand 
An archeulean mystery that carves and cuts
I am a cats tongue

The Greeks called me a Thunderstone 
A lightening bold dispatched from Zeus
How romantic 
How untrue 

Pear shaped or ovate 
Edges sharper than a barbers blade 
My maker could not stomach me 
My ferocity lost in soft hands 

I was never used to good effect 
Yes, humans made me 
named me 
But they could not tame me 

The first tool of humanity 
Trial and error 
A failure 
Yet I was not the last 

Stone gifts from the Oldowan
Flakes of rock on a brute hand axe 
A hammer to land a heavy hit 
A knife to cut flesh 

Human energy channelled 
Human tooling born 
And now you rely on glass and silicon 
A thunderbolt from the clouds …

These modern cat tongues 
Don’t cut above the skin
Their edges are deeper
Handle with care

A peacock may be flashy and LSD bright 
Her glow will turn your mind to wonderful sins 
Soft feathers bouncing in an oversized gay 
Flamboyant for all to envy 

When I gaze at her it makes me sick 
So far removed from efficiency and clarity
Natural selection has not found its truth 
She has withstood the fair hand of nature 

Our logic has mistakenly granted a wide birth 
Why not a finch of delicate touch 
That bird of subtly, carved in reality  
Must I endure

Oh this selfish beast 
Beauty is her trap and I her victim 
No more I say 
Your inefficiency is my deepest regret

A web spun from instinct 
Decades of practise with nothing to show 
But existence maintained 
A blood line upheld  

What has it taken to survive 
Other than the courage 
To sit and wait 
As the hours fade 

Waiting and waiting 
For innocence to stumble 
Into your web of lost time
Into your clutches of death 

…

And it’s broken 
That misty white thread
Meets its own demise 
In the hands of a wading gardener 

I did not recognise your strife 
My innocence took your home 
Now you rebuild 
As you always have

May I sit with you 
Get caught in your web of patience 
Fall into your clutches 
Ready for our next meal 

I can feel them talking in their new world 
In the clouds that echo above the sky
Silently, my mind floats up to call on them both 
Silently, I watch    

I don’t know why I feel close to the dead 
To grandparents who left in years past 
Maybe the anxiety and pressures of earth fade 
Maybe we are unshackled from the forces here  

Up there, time doesn’t move so fast 
But it’s not slow or dull or dead 
A peace that breeds our truest love  
At peace with the deceased 

I used to think 
This soul of mine had an older nature 
My gasping for air in youth 
Found maturity early 
It wasn’t real though

30 feels like 13 
Souls wrapped in flesh work different 
My warm cheeks age 
And skin stretches
Yet my soul stays on

Like gliding to a never ending stop 
One gear for the trip 
My souls clock doesn’t tick 
It started old 
and will end young 

On this day we notice how some pass undisturbed and still. To often, the hands of time hand us little, so our searching hearts stay hidden in shade. Love that remains elusive, not easily made.

Yet in an old city finding its way, two souls were woven by salt and sea. A land of dragons and old country gave life to a pairing beginning  today and ready for tomorrow, come what may.

As the years roll by, they’ll remember this: This collision of love that holds them. That whispers and screams in equal measure. That never dims or fades. That through pain or pleasure, hears one another.

We, those who love you are richer for your gift to each other. The endless laughs and the endless fun will ring in our ears and in our memories. In our own tales and in our old stories.

Let us dance for what’s to come. As you leap from the shade into the warming light. As time sharpens your depth of heart. As you grow old together, year by year. As your love collides, as it did here.

Why do we seek the wildness 
Disorder and irregularity 
Why do we seek the truth
In the depths of self-willed land 

Land that proceeds by its own laws 
Listens to its own spirit 
Protrudes confidence of place
A blunt force of reckoning 

I want that for myself 
Let me breathe this air a fresh 
Oxygen of the sea that brushes in 
To lungs longing for harvest

Early enough to avoid the wasps 
Late enough to soak the sun 
On the banks of the river 
The summer has begun 

Out of lockdown 
Into the air 
London streets heave
A free affair 

Beers on mass 
Like bees who won’t settle 
A drink from each pub 
Petal to petal  

The sun finds it dusk 
As the night draws near 
Times of sorrow 
We just want more beers

The river bends 
Twisting between brick 
Loaded by humans 
Building their nests 

City smoke settles 
Yet water vanishes  
Escapes through shoots 
Down hidden holes 

An unknown world  
Quiet and secret 
Never stops moving 
Trickling and trickling