PEEVISH BEE BOOKS
Three Devon Poems (October 2010)
Birds Flying High, Oh So Sidmouth, A Love Sublime.
Birds Flying High
Bitter sweet memories in tangled dreams I dredge,
Whilst outside the window shakes a windy hedge
And hearing this, I picture others all around,
Bent over by the westerlies.
I strain my ears for the distant crashing tide and am blissfully happy,
Lying as I am in a soft bed, in sheets of winceyette without pyjamas,
Thinking of tea, eagerly awaiting my first cup of lovely punjana.
I gaze up at the white plastic panelled ceiling,
Almost totally devoid of any real feeling
And listen to her shower, through paper thin, beige, hessian printed walls.
Then looking at patterns of wood Formica,
I realise just how much I like her,
As she sings a medley of songs by Nina Simone and Bizet –
‘Birds flying high – You know how I feel,’
Then, after a burst of Carmen she suddenly says –
“Do you know my alcove’s changed?
All the pebbles have moved, the whole beach, the shape of it
And there was a boat parked in there,
So I had to move along to sit somewhere!”
“What do you want for breakfast? Porridge and honey that’s delish!”
Concludes my gorgeous wet, steamy girl, so brazenly coquettish.
Then I am told that after breakfast I have to clean the toaster,
Because crumbs burning in the bottom are making it a roaster –
Such little considerations, unite us both in simple domestic pleasure
And thinking of big burnt crumbs wedged between the elements,
I glance out through the window
Noticing how the wind, too strong for rooks to roost,
Tosses them ever higher above the distant trees,
Whilst a few seagulls glide as if against a gentle breeze.
Both rooks and gulls, jet black and snow white,
Against a blue sky, clear as gin and sharp like burnished steel,
Birds flying high above the trees,
I count my blessings and know just how they feel.