Sendal Dusk

Behind the beacon hills the sky in patches, remnants, clouded
Like silk shot through with clarets, cobalts, fit to clothe a king
Below, the winking hamlets now with burnt sienna shrouded
Feigning sleep, they nestle deep into the vale's green sling

Black Spot

Into the ditch are bloodied glass and twisted metal smashed

Past dimming eyes a world of whirling grass and wet mud flashed

All happy thoughts of home and children's faces, cruelly dashed

Contrail

Ripped and torn unravelled sky marks travellers' thoughtless wend

Empyreal vaulted winds just sigh, their quilts of blue extend

Frail crumbling orbit's gentle sweep through sunset's golden glow

Is brushed aside no more to sleep dispersed like spring's last snow

Vanished History

Disembodied murmurs rustle through the corridors of stone
Happy voices blurred by time no longer tied to flesh and bone
Lost heirlooms, echoed sonants die or sadly ripple on alone

The Chiseler

I fear the tombstone's scrivener too soon has come
To charm with perjured pen and smiling yellowed teeth
By his demotic artifice am I struck dumb
This Cheshire cat so sweetly spins my funeral wreath

Schrödinger's Eyes

A far-off tolling bell has chased the clouds across the grass

The limpid sky is dreaming of a deep blue still to pass

Unfenced, lush fields now lap the line of trees atop the hill

But behind the sun-haze'd torpor unseen walls stand cold and still

Prisoners we, existing only under observation glass...

Water Tower

Solitary tree of stone
Stand tall to feel the wind
Horizon watcher, you alone
Rain's deep exile rescind

Within this skylake beats a heart
A concrete cavity
Cloud plunderer disguised as art
Enslaved to gravity