Day 6 – Curlew, Sphagnum Moss, Peat

a spongy carpet;

clusters of green stars

holding water

storing carbon

amongst cotton grass

big rosemary and cranberry.

Curlew, Steng Moss Bog

peatland upland graasland.

blue stockinged long long legs

wading curved bill down.

I miss the air

against my skin

flicking hair impressions.

before they breed

the male bubbles a call

high pitched across the greyish mist.

threatened they skim

mudflats and dig for shrimp.

this closeness to nature

of cream of buff

of feather is like love

being ripped out

from the roots and fashioned

to fit the narrow folds of life,

yet still being golden and wild.

The Blue Wardrobe and Chair

A dull turquoise, maybe even duck-egg blue, worn and distressed

nestled into an alcove, pushed back to not intrude upon the small room.

What do you hold, what do you conceal? And you fine chair, straw seat

spindly legs and arms, who do you invite, who do you hold?

Passing questions, I hold, as I pass through this room. May I say

an artist’s room? Maybe. But the easel will hold the result. Hold the answers.