the coat

he disliked the coat he had been given
but wore it because he had no other

it had been made with love
and given with love

but only when it was worn through
did he learn to love it himself


I open the door and release them
one by one

they come to the door and I watch them go
in pale December sun

and some of them are beautiful
and some of them are old
and some of them are ugly
some as cold as stone

and some of them are holy

[first posted Jan 3, 2016]


after it was finished
they planted a garden
on the rubble

that’s what you do with rubble
plant a garden


often his walk took him to the same spot
as if to an assignation

a clearing in the trees
where he expected nothing
and received nothing
while retaining in his heart
the most foolish of emotions
the feeling that he would be healed

as easily as taking off an old jacket
and going back to find another

which is fanciful
but there is more to life than one knows

and more to the dreams of the broken
than one might imagine

morning call

I threw my arms out wide
to greet the day
now I start each morning
in this way

it scares the hell
out of my dog
but it makes the coffee
taste better


in the old days
I used to heal life’s little ills
by imagining a secluded garden
where I took restorative waters
from an old brass cup

these days
I’m at the Chelsea Flower Show
drinking from a golden chalice

Bell Lane 3

walking in discomfort down Bell Lane
I finally accept my infirmity 
with this responsibility 
I am no longer its victim

dark and cloudy the sky
but the hills are ablaze with lights
finding my feet once again
in Bell Lane