The morning that my wife died, after visiting the hospice,
disoriented, disbelieving, desperate to see her,
I drove home, embarrassed that I'd cried, and fled the empty rooms
into the garden. Calmly, silently, a delicate dart
of white passed overhead - a little egret - and my grieving
paused, astonished. Only once before had she and I seen such
a bird in England as a rare migrant in the west country:
never before had I seen an egret in my neighbourhood.
I stared, unsure of the significance of the event
while the bird glided out of sight behind some trees.
Was it just a strange coincidence or something more, something
concerning soul or spirit ? Perhaps she wasn't really
dead but metamorphosed into that bird, taking pity on me,
trying to console me in her death as so often in life.
The day passed slowly in troubled confusion till sleep eased pain.
Later in the year I saw more egrets in the neighbourhood.
So just a strange coincidence then ?

Today is the sixth anniversary of the day she died
and another miserable cold and wet December day.
In the garden this morning another white egret flew past.
Another visitation of something supernatural ?
A soul at peace I hope not searching still for consolation.
Who knows ? But what about the intervening anniversaries ?
What was she so busy with that she couldn't find the time
to visit me on those occasions ? Just like a woman !

When acquaintances ask "How are you?",
you tell them "Fine", "So-so", "OK";
more honest with friends who ask the same
"Fed-up", "Pissed off", "In the dumps today".
But a caring partner knows how you feel
without you having to say.

Old age dilemma

One old lady in my bed
or lots of young ones in my head ?

A novel is a floodlight
showing actors on a stage;
a poem is a spotlight
on one person in the audience.

Parents

You stupid boy, you silly girl,
to throw away the lives that hardly yet were yours
for some romantic notion of true love,
for nothing that could count as cause !

If you had lost your love when old
and only after true companionship lifelong,
then there'd be no-one else to take their place
and suicide would not seem wrong.

But you were young, all life ahead,
too young indeed to know lost love will heal in time
when young enough to find another love
and build a future in your prime.

So many years we nurtured you
through infancy and childhood till you reached this stage
of adolescence and how you repay
our love ! Now we can only rage

against your thoughtless foolishness.
Your names should be remembered so that none forget
the stupid silliness of teenage love.
Oh, Romeo! Oh, Juliet!

Nice work if you can get it

Would you like to be something
official, somebody important ?
Do you crave attention but
lack the talent to entertain ?
Would you revel in countless
meetings discussing airy issues ?
Could you master the minutiae
of proposals, amendments, resolutions ?
Will you enjoy it in a supporters
club jeering at the opposition ?
And most important -can you talk
fluently without actually saying anything ?
Lots of 'yes's ?
Good, we have just the position for you.
(We can hardly call it a job !)
Politician.

That evening at the local lady's house,
after the meal when the dancing began,
you seemed to float above the dusty ground
lifted by rum and the feeling you can

do anything you want. Nothing should douse
modern young women's faith in themselves.
So, swaying to the music you soon found
local lads keen enough to juxtapose pelves.

Although too old, I wished I were your spouse;
widowed, past grief, I need someone for wife
but since out there young men and good abound,
surely you'll have a fulfilling married life.