Me reading a slighty flirtatious Spring poem…
Winter
Mother Autumn
for Anna
and for Rosemary, Joan, and Janette
*
I see my Mother, now the swans have flown
As summer falling sweetly from the vine
In fading shades of blossom turned to wine
In seas of corn from seeds of springtime grown
I sense her in the scents of roses blown
In twilight glades as day and night entwine
At sunrise, in the mist of morning’s shine
On drops of blood of berries on the stone
…
I see my Mother, standing on the hill
Beneath Orion as he turns the year
I see her grieve for me all winter till
The new born leaves and flowers reappear
As I will, Mother, as I always will
Return to where I came from, Mother dear
*
© Gail Foster 22nd September 2017
Waiting For You; The Return of the Light
Winter Solstice Sunrise 2016; Avebury, Wiltshire
*
I have waited for you
Where no shadow seeps
Deep in the earth
Where the slow damp creeps
Under the stones
Where the sunlight sleeps
I have waited for you
…
I have listened for you
In the eaglet’s cry
In the echoes of rooks
In the empty sky
In a new-born’s breath
And a dead man’s sigh
I have listened for you
…
I have looked for you
Where the elders grow
Followed your steps
Through the virgin snow
Through groves of yew
And mistletoe
Looking for you
…
I have watched for you
By the door and the gate
Risen up early
And lain down late
Doubted your love
And cursed my fate
Watching for you
…
You said you would come
You said that you will
Appear as the dawn
On the curve of the hill
I have waited for you
Through the dark, and the still
You said you would come
…
I lit you a fire
I kindled a flame
In the fear of the darkness
I called out your name
I thought I was dying
And then you came
You said you would come
…
And here you are
The promise of light
Sweetening silence
And softening night
And all shall be well
And be blesséd delight
You said you would come
*
© Gail Foster 21st December 2016
The Souls of Spring’s Children
*
softly, whispering
featherfalls on silent stone
winter, gravity
…
lost in the fog, birds
grieving morning voicelessly
remembering love
…
dead diamonds, ditches
glittering cold promises
fossil furrow froze
…
darkness, deepening
the womb and the grave hiding
secrets and shadows
…
in the ground, waiting
the souls of springs children sing
muffled lullabies
*
© Gail Foster 2016
winter tide; a haiku
damn you, winter tide
leaving behind in your wake
shells on shores of spring
*
by gail
The Solstice Door
The light is coming… and I wish you well
*
*
Behind the running, running man the land
Lies silent, fallow, haunted by the cry
Of one lone mourning rook who flies alone
Inscribing solemn circles in the sky
There is no time to take a backward look
Just running, running, running, running blind
He leaves the flowered garlands that she wove
With ribbons bright, with summer’s love, behind
He runs with only hope in empty hands
All faint of heart, with life blood running cold
The chill of winter earth beneath his feet
All water turned to ice in frozen fold
All out of breath with minutes yet to live
He runs, through elder grove and stand of yew
Runs, seeking for the ancient Solstice door
Described in tales the bards and ancients knew
‘Till suddenly he stumbles on a glade
All silent where no wild bird wheels or calls
And in the glade there stands a single stone
And on the ground a moon dark shadow falls
And there, within the shadow’s light he sees
That which before him other men have found
A stairway leading down in to the earth
A dark descending path in to the ground
No way but down now, this the only way
He gathers one last breath, and full of fear
Goes down the old and foot worn ancient steps
That lead towards the portal of the year
How dark the endless steps of winter’s stair
That shadow down, down to the Solstice door
To where, beneath the door a chink of light
Hints soft and bright across the cold stone floor
He sits upon the bottom step to rest
Reflect, and contemplate the year behind
And lo, she comes, bedecked in leaves and fruit
And dancing, dancing, through his weary mind
Forget me not, she sings; I am still here
I wait for you, for life to shift and stir
And through the keyhole and the chink there blows
A fragrant waft of birch and silver fir
Reviving, blessing, soft upon his face
The promise of new life upon her breath
Touched by her grace he weeps upon the step
For she has saved him with her love from death
Another year dies, another lives
He sits and waits; she watches from afar
And as he waits the light in darkness shifts
And creaks the ancient Solstice Door ajar…
*
by Gail
Doorway Dogs
*
Winter is coming, there’s frost on the ground
It’s hard being homeless when you’re a hound
Cold tongues and noses, wet coats and feet
Are par for the course for a dog on the street
Furry surfers of sofas and seekers of sheds
Who dream of warm fires and comfortable beds
Who can’t go to the Council or bid for a flat
Who have to rely on a human for that
All that waiting outside; all that watching of doors
All that catching a wink on unsuitable floors
Living a life dodging different dangers
Living on luck and the kindness of strangers
It’s a dog’s life alright, and for humans as hard
It’s no good in the hood when you ain’t got a yard
But there’s rumours afoot in the Chippenham air
Re: temporary housing and bed space to spare
Tales are wagging and shaggy dogs telling
The news that they sense on the air they are smelling
They go down to Doorway and find out it’s true
“Hey doggies, we’ve got comfy kennels for you!”
One has a sniff and the other a lick
And one gives the new pop up kennels some stick
One crawls inside and another freaks out
“What on earth,” say the dogs, “is the tent thing about?
It’s hard to assimilate cultural change
The kennels, let’s face it, are awfully strange
But the humans look happy and that’s pretty neat
Always a good thing to keep humans sweet
And it’s really quite nice of them, thinking of us
Best use the things so they don’t make a fuss
Just crawl in and smile “Hey, this is quite cool!”
“Speak for yourself, mate, I feel like a tool”
“But it’s warmer in here, so maybe chill out?”
“Less of the ‘chill’, it’s the heat I’m about”
So went the debate, it was fairly immense
Till all dogs agreed that some stuff was intense
That the kennels were handy and kept out the cold
And that humans are weird and like, comedy gold
They were really quite glad that the kennels had popped up
That their core body temperatures had been topped up
And that folk gave them snacks and stuff for their dinner
Yep, the whole kennel thing was an actual winner
But lunchtime passed quickly and soon it was gone
It was time for the dogs to pack up and crack on
With doggy bags sorted they left with their folk
And went hunting for dog ends to roll up and smoke
Oh, housing’s a nightmare and tricky to handle
A difficult issue, an absolute scandal
But on Mondays and Thursdays the doggies can glamp
Pop up to the drop in and hang out and camp…
…
In between times the Doorway staff find with a frown
That what can pop up does not always pop down
The kennels are springy and just won’t play ball
And no-one can pack up the bu**ers at all
Goodness knows where they can stash ‘em or stick ‘em
Not one of them knows how to fold up and lick ‘em
It’s like playing Twister, such weird convolutions
Like trying to find flippin’ housing solutions
*
by Gail
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