Eight line poems

 Through Windows


There was sometimes a telegraph pole,

Once I looked out and saw a shadow

of a huge owl sat against the darkening blue,

I only saw him as he took off suddenly.


Now there's trees, or cars, or sheep,

What to focus on; the tall lampposts,

Do we like to see the stars and comets

From attic window sky-lights. 


                         -



It's dark and we're pretending we're not home,

It's quiet but we're expecting trouble.

My superstitious heart wishes something,

But I sit and watch the gathering night,

Ignoring it's mumbling and

Remembering brightly lit faces,

Laughter and in the far away spaces of memory,

Simple happiness, just silliness and joy. 





I hurt a fly today. Unexpected visitor in the out of season, About to land upon my chips,  My reason for batting him away. He might have sto...