The Calm of Boxing Day Morning

Holding hands in fresh gloves
we walk the Winter woods;
it’s quiet on Boxing Day morning;
probably too many bad heads sleeping it off.

The essence of Chris is still hanging in the air,
from the tall pine sentries lining our route,
watching us in the scarves wrapped around our faces;
the same scarves muffling our voices,
and the words we get wrong,
singing the Christmas songs everyone knows.

We ask each other to name their favourite part of Christmas so far;
I say spending time with you;
I know I say the same thing every year but it’s the truth;
and you say the same.

I’m lost in your hazelnut eyes when snow begins to fall;
I wonder what it would be like to be frozen in time;
right here, right now, in this very moment;
but when the soft snowflake hits my cheek;
I wake up from my festive fog,
and we walk on
– destination unknown.

Wishing you all a Merry Christmas and Festive Good Fortune,

Paul

At Christmas

Christmas is my time of year
I can get drunk on the scents of clementine and clove
I like to sing along with Bing & Bowie, Wizzard & Wham
dance around the tree tryIng not to trip
over well-wrapped gifts and tins of roses
I get hypnotised by the shimmering of baubles
against twinkling lights and tinsel
every year I sit and lose myself in the magic of the snowman
like it’s my first time seeing it.

Get me round the table on Christmas day
pulling crackers with prizes I never win
a toast and then a race for the pigs in blankets
and last roast potato
smiles of happiness, wine and champagne
from all the faces,
leaves the best taste.

Does it really matter to you,
if the odd day, my breakfast is Bucks Fizz, coco pops and orange matchmakers
and afternoon hot chocolates
sometimes have Bailey’s in, sometimes not?
We celebrate in our own ways.

I’ve always enjoyed Christmas
ever since I watched letters with burnt edges
float up the chimney as a child
when Dudley Moore was a runaway elf
and presents spilled from tree to settee
and the whole family was happy and together.

Christmas is my time of year
let’s celebrate together
all in our own ways.

————

Thanks for taking the time to read my poem.

Take It Easy

Paul

The Last Days Of Summer

Soft-boiled sky

spread thin on the horizon

the sun’s rising later each day

maroon leaves and falling horse chestnuts

betray the arrival of

an early August autumn

we were too cloud-drenched to notice

too caught up in our own microclimates to care

but I welcome the new season

and the spectrum of flickering flames and hot embers

because I’ve always loved

dancing in the fire.

Thanks for taking the time to read my poem, originally wrote as part of #TopTweetTuesday on twitter, this is a farewell to Summer and a warm welcome to Autumn. Please feel free to leave a comment if you liked it or have any constructive critique.

Take It Easy,

Paul

Dedication

I felt it was an insult that
each new street
was named after
a different species of tree
they chopped down
a lasting dedication to
rapid decimation
of the ancient woodland and hedgerow
their deaths were dealt so swiftly
that the hawthorn berries
didn’t even get time to bleed.

Now when I walk past
Oak Avenue, Ash Drive & Beech Terrace
each brimming with life
I think of the bricks, mortar and glass
I believe the woodland remains
just in a different guise
and the dedication isn’t an insult
but a celebration of what came before
that the trees that once thrived there
are a solid foundation for new roots to form.

Thanks for taking the time to read this poem, feel free to leave a comment if you wish.

Time Travel

Taking a carefree stroll
through an inviting burrow
of oak, ash, cedar, elm and yew
I allow myself
to talk to the trees
and travel through time
the history stored
in trunks and roots
is phenomenal
whispered secrets
shared by the world
filtered through canopies
of bronze, emeralds and golds
could fill all the libraries
in all the world
woodland sentinels
silently observing
passers-by
witnessing the same
litany of mistakes
made by multiple generations
the main one being
that your present
is already your past
and the future is now.

This is something I’ve learned
by talking to trees
while travelling through time.

I hope you’ve enjoyed reading this poem, inspired by wandering in the woods and listening. I’d love to know your thoughts.