Making History

I’ve got this knawing suspicion

that it’s all going to be OK.

And whilst there is an element

of relief and self assurance about it,

what irritates me is that

I’ll no doubt look back

and think it wasn’t so bad after all,

when the urgency of the present

is screaming out to remind 

my future self that

it didn’t feel like it at the time.

John H Davies

23rd April 2011 

Altitude

We ascended through spring

pastures of wild crocuses

and Edelweiss, and with

every gaining step

your life regressed by

increments, minute by

minute, so that  by

the time we scrambled

along the ridge towards

the summit, you were a

child again, unable to contain

your breathless joy in the 

thin air, with trembling knees

that reminded me of the

excitement I felt when 

I thought I was about to

make a new friend.

John H Davies

22nd April 2011

Crossing a Bridge

A territorial dispute

or a perfect union,

the knarled trunk

barged up between

the ancient stones

of the bridge

like a bulging vein

but oddly accommodated;

conjoining animate

with inanimate,

injecting life

into the forgotten

structure as it slowly

forces it apart.

John H Davies

21st April 2011 

Foxy Cat

Foxy Cat is flat.

I know this because I narrowly missed

his steaming carcass the other day

on my way to work.

We weren’t that fond

of Foxy Cat, but for his

incongruous brown brush

set against an otherwise cloudy cotton coat,

now embossed with tractor tyre tread.

Notable only for winding up our dog

was Foxy Cat,

and terrorizing the neighbour’s rabbit

by standing beyond the French windows

out of reach.

Each day I pass,

his pancake imprint becomes less.

Until one day there’ll be nothing left

of Foxy Cat.

One wrong turn -

his earthly contribution

faded to less than a memory.

John H Davies

20th April 2011

Cwm Megan

The birds sing all day long

in Megan’s valley

despite the rain

dripping from a fir

that both threatens

yet guards the old cot

like a tall shepherd,

growing taller

as the other grows old,

drawing memory from the earth

like rising sap

regenerating simpler times

and fixing them

in the mellifluous tones

of the birds that sing all day long

in Megan’s valley.

19th April 2011

John H Davies

Omen

I didn’t believe in signs

or omens until we discovered

a hoary toad in the yard

when we moved the business.

It was sure to mean good luck

because my friend and partner

is known as the jovial toad

(of Toad Hall you understand)

and just before we had time

to tell him, we found the toad

squashed by a van and I don’t

think I believe in signs any more.

John H Davies

18th April 2011 

Metamorphosis

As he waited for the radiologist

to x-ray his hip, he tried to fix

the moment when he ceased

being a vibrant individual human

being and became just another

elderly person who fell

when the door closed on him

because he wasn’t strong enough

to hold it open against the spring.

John H Davies

17th April 2011