Mary Poppins

Five - Six - Thirteen

After a glorious production the sun
bows graciously behind the trees on my right
to rapturous vesperturnal applause.
To my left the bats fight their nightly battle
against the ravenous grasp of mortality.
Pheasants overrule the avian debate
ahead of me in the comfort of sakura silhouettes.
I see the detritus of a summer holiday
strewn on uncut grass. Cars. Watering cans.
The bag of wet swimming things I meant to unpack.
Tea steams in the cool air.
Behind me the warmth of love coaxes, calls, caresses my name.

I close the door to outer beauty
and open my heart.

Bitterly Cold

How dare the Sunshine show his face,

When with illusory Autumn Summer’s replaced

And offers only cold embrace

To those who crave his warmth the most?

But cradles the cruel and wantonly idle

Whose joys are temperate and tidal;

Who never do a thing but sidle

Out of work and blithely boast.