And there is
Beautiful in her beauty
A young girl taking the Sun
By the canal

The canalA carpet of jewels.
STORYTELLER
poet
And there is
Beautiful in her beauty
A young girl taking the Sun
By the canal
The canalA carpet of jewels.
There they are
BEAUTIFUL IN THE EXTREME
An old cathedral family
Together in their togetherness
A JOY TO SEE
And I am again walking through buttercups
I sat beside my grandfather
On his deathbed
His mind wild
Hands lose
Stitching a bag
Yoking the horse and cart
Going to the bog
Calling the neighbours
Giving a day at the hay
On a football field
Asking for a pas
Stillness followed
A long silence
Then the conversation with my grandmother
Past years before
Of routine matters
Making the reunion
Getting ready to go to her.
HOUNDED BY CREDITORS
THEY COME IN EVERY DIRECTION
LIKE VULTURES
THEY SMELL MONEY
SHERIFF LEADS THE POSSE
REDUCES A LIFETIME WORK
TO A PAGE
ARGUE OVER PRIORITY
DESTITUTION
AND THE BACK OF THE HAND
SUFFER IN SILENCE
Life changed to a battlefield
driveway vacant
Carl gone repossessed
Phone disconnected
Morning panic
Now silence
No hurry
No place to go
Bills only
Red letters
Requests to vacate the house
Their house
Their home
Their children’s home
They stand on the brink.
 Robin standing on a broken stone
He looked at me
Winked an eye
 Wiggled his tail
Tapped his Robin song
 Telling the dead
 To wait for the resurrection