Cairn, 2019: Untitled i (’19)

a doctor’s rose in foreign ground
wintering harshness in a folded lair
all past crowned summers gone
cut back almost into root
transplanted, grafted, remembering
her dream of pink, his Albertine

After Reading The Song of Songs

for my real imagined other Theirs the earth, the world, mountain, moon. Theirs not this earth, married in the sun. They are whole, whole, holy. Let us dream their path, poetry. Where now is she, where he. Where are we. What do we have. Squabbling city guards silence, always. Playing games, skimming loads, naming to…

Cairn, 2019: burnt

i have not listened to the soil’s breathy gossip
since the oven crusted me

i have not had the field’s weeds’ wonder still me
since . . .

continued here

Cairn, 2019

In ten days It will be a year since I started posting regularly and more seriously here. I’ve surprised myself, over one hundred and twenty posts – many poems written just to be posted, not all of them though and fewer recently due to work demands. Its been a great stimulus and to connect to…