Every leaf that falls

There is a reason in the soaring bird
There's reason in the clouds
There is sense in each and every call
Of the dove above the crowd
There is method in the madness
Of the writer in his word
And for every up there is a down
For every leaf that falls

There will be time enough for progress
And relegation to the trees
There will be judgement in the congress
Before we can be free
And every shadow traces an outline
Of each object in the hall
There is a name on every bullet
And in every leaf that falls

In the hour of the circumstance
That rounds the era's drawl
The women with kalashnikovs
The snakes on the ground still crawl
And Eve is walking with Adam
Down groves paradisiacal
Their relection in every apple
And in every leaf that falls

I have seen them in the aftermath
Of the world's uncertainy
In the face of the clown that laughs
In the honour of bravery
And any time you hear sound of an Angel's call
Be sure you lay down the gun once and for all
For there is innocense in the flower
And deep knowledge in dark night
And a nameless sorrow in its power
And in every leaf that falls

Sap is rising

The Sap is rising from the ground
Sticky sweet with life it sounds
Out the hollows of dry wood
Press-ganging life into its hood
And strangely swaying in old limbs
The things birds know on the wing
And trapping flies in its ointment
It elucidates life in an amber spyglass
Fifty million years ago
This same sap was on the flow
Pushing up from mother earth
Giving life, giving birth

Bridgwater in the rain

I remember in bridgwater
road in the rain
All those bloody traffic jams
All those

I remember bridgwater in the rain
And the roads that flowed
Out
The forests on the verge
That never emerge
From the corners
Of your blinkered vision

I remember the turns
And the dips in the road
Of the little old track
That ran
Down past the willows
Down past the the peat centre
And the Marshes that lay
Asleep in our hands

Do they still run,
Do the rivers still flow
The way I remember them in my youth
Do the roads still subside
And dip and dive
Do those same Peat tractors
Still pull their black load?
I suppose
They do

But what if its changed
If the falling rain
Has washed all foot prints away?
What of the people, their voices
Their triumphs
What if their hearts couldn't stay?
What then for my hopes of returning
What then for the time of a life
that's kept burning?
What if the jack knifed
Lorry is blocking the road
And the hearts blood is pumping
Its heavy load
And its blood is black with the peat
That its knowed
And the rain washes all this blackness
Away, away

White Trunks

Sitting upon a giant trunk
A white leviathan once sunk
Like Moby Dick, caught and weighed
Left its ballein skeleton - sunbleached for days
Trees are like dinosaurs of the hidden valley
Echo back the white chalk cliffs
Which straddle up above the canopy
The semisphere of blue to kiss

Wood peckers drill holes about
Bull ants fill them with their snouts
Searching out the sweetest honey
As pirates seeking out hidden money

All at once the leaves do drop
In an unknown breeze
Like a gentle woman walking by, inexplicable
Ease
The winter comes as Summer's release

On with the Show

In the cold hunted moon hanging low

Like the a hangman’s noose

Over cold harbour bridge

And the sweet summer rose

That has doffed its fair cap

To be petals to the Devil and the coal scuttle cat

To the wintery scene of the levels

Which the ice queen peruses like lovers in bondage

And the dandelion trees full of starlings

That corner the darlings

And the buds of the flower

Then as if a cruel North wind did blow

Destroys with its power

And a flutter on the breeze rise the starlings

Like dandelion seeds

And then on with the show

While bare and alone stands the tree with its branches

The summer a long way off with its rose

The winter peeling her bark in its throes

But still the Majestic dance goes on

So on with the show

The name of this Eden is chances

The sweet swelling ring of the bells

The Colonel and the Lady are dancers

So the good song of the evening goes well

And a courting goes John of the Marshes

To the town fair he has gone with the Belles

And Donna was seen with the Marquis

Whom she showed her fine, handsome hair

And the bard of the evening is laughing

And the mystery fairy folk are all there

For John with a belle is now dancing

And so long has she held his bold stare

So the evening buds are a blooming

And the morning floods are still there

But as the level’s lovers are crooning

The Silver fairy folk are in their lair

And the blood of the brothers is on the tide

The tears their mother has cried

Calls why can’t we go back to the evening

When neither a brother did care

And their wives are a-busy a-mourning

Their lives are of widowhood bare

And of the music that filled the good evening

How they wish for its love back on the air

So the fairy Folk dance on the shore line

They break the crisp foam in their hands

The Lovers come again in the evening

And the Levels is again a fine land

The Whimsical Wood

In the whimsical wood

Is where the dove cot stood

Away from light and power and Magic

It grew too cold and soon was tragic

Then the whimsical woodsman came along

In his way with an axe

He sang his song

And levelled the trees which had stood there long

And let the light shine in

And the dovecot stood

In the whimsical wood

Just waiting for a dove

To fly down from above

And give it a sign it was true and good

Finally one day when the woodsman was asleep

Down flew a pair of doves

The dovecot to keep

And they made their nests

With a ‘coo’ and ‘cheap’, ‘cheap’

Gently rolling their soft vowel sounds

To the woodsman asleep

Inside his dream he was wide awake

Aboard a great Ark, like Noah did make

And along from the skies came a wandering dove

Who dropped an olive twig in his palm,

And spoke of love

All around him was a flood

Like around the dovecot stood the wood

And he knew not just about what business he should

Unless it was to speak of love

And as he did the waters receded

Just as the trees that once he had seeded

And his Ark it reached the land

Well then he awoke from his own dream

To find who had spoke, was a dove on a beam

Coo-cooing here and there

They flew in a pair

But startled when he moved

And flew into air

Come back, come back he pleaded and pleaded

But his cries they went unheeded

So he sat back down in a torpor

And stewed like a tea bag left too long in the water

Finally he grew black and bitter

What need have I of trees?

Without love nor Birds nor bees

I may live in my wood of high walls

And if another high tree falls

It will not be by my hand at all

I will live here in the dovecot

Penthouse Quarter

So he laid down his axe

And began to relax

Inside the walls of his new dovecot home

That evening on the breeze

He thought he smelt the smell of the seas

He saw the rustle of the leaves

Then in the dovecot’s eves

Spied his first love

The dovecot owner’s daughter

‘Hey there come down’

He coaxed her

She gave a coo, fluttered and flew

And he saw it was a dove

Returned not the daughter

Though sad, yet relieved

To find hope in the eves

He fed the little bird some grain

And it was bad he believed

To build high walls of pride made of leaves

Just to hide and cover up his pain

So he resolved the next morning

Without further warning

To break the spell of longing

On the whimsical wood

He took his axe and his belongings

And set out through the thronging

To carve out a new pathway made for good

The going it was hard

Often times dangerous

At night he stood guard

For wolves or bears, quite treacherous

Underfoot sometimes rock or stone

From the sky sometimes thunder

Rain or blistering Sun

Down valley and up hill

He used his woodland skill

To make a path to freedom

From the whimsical wood kingdom

Past the hives of honeyed bee-dom

To the land of shrilling shrill

Once his path was made

He then became afraid

That, others might tread down his road

But determined not to be a toad

He would carry the load

And deal with the consequences

Be they light or shade

One day while he was chopping

Near a time he thought of stopping

A lovely maiden upon him strode

She looked like sunshine popping

Through the leaves as they are dropping

And his heart it gave a coo like in a dove’s abode

She smiled and sat down near him

He stopped when she began to sing

A song of love I have been told

And from that day his heartache mended

No more high walls of Pride to be offended

What’s more the doves came back

To their woodland hold

Lemon Curd Lemmers

Cats are afraid of water

Abraham was afraid to send his son to slaughter

I noticed a woman who was nervous of a little bird

Tell me why am I afraid of Lemon Curd?

Napoleon was a Giant who stood 5 feet 7 tall

But even he had issues with the shadows on the wall

And many in Mogadishu feel the need to cry I’ve heard

So Tell me why am I afraid of Lemon Curd?

I used to know a sailor who told me of the things at Sea

Many I could guess to face they wouldn’t bother me

But even this tough sailor thinks its quite absurd

Tell me why am I afraid of Lemon Curd?

Is it that its yellow well that could be the fellow

But no I don’t hide myself from the Sun

And its not that its a preserve about which I am Mellow

After all I can spread Jam on a current Bun

No, what I think is, that it is from a lemon tree

It’s truly that elementary

For a nasty incident happened when I was young

I was stuck up the tree for hours

Just sniffing at the fruit and flowers

When I saw dead black crow there was hung

Now I know it was a scare crow

But back then it was I who scared so

And the crows still circled about the Lemon Groves in the Sun

Ever since I’ve associated a dead bird

Every time I saw Lemon Curd

Which my point it proves

When life hands you Lemons Please recall these truths I’ve said

Don’t be bitter just make Lemonade instead

Because with it you’ll be cured

Just for Goodness sake stay away from Lemon Curd 

Apple Orchards

They are held tight to the grit

In the grip of the sky

In the grit in the eye

And woodchip in our spit

Pruning the orchard

In a land of Peace

Where song birds flutter

The home of bees

And a bliss of Quiet

Yet never still

The looming presence of trees

The time you have to kill

Activity drums and hums

Your thumbs never idle

In the aisles, the rows

Almost bridal

You stand and wait for a kiss

Under the mistletoe

But, it never comes

Butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth

But she would take a bite from the apple

Of course 

The Windy Top

Aspen Tremble in the wind

The Willow up turn their silver skin

Among the Yorkshire fog that sways

Upon the hill Dun Deardail way

A moving spirit whose pitch and toss

Is that invisible force to which

The grass seeds are at a loss

What makes the wind blow?

Why do we feel these molecules

Become our consciousness?

Our minds are the grassy fields

We have flesh that is of the earth

And souls made of the wind

And when the wind blows

We may lose ourselves like

The mind set free from the skin

I sat upon Dun Deardail hill

And listened to the wind

The sun was an eye

In the blazing blue sky

And the summit’s voice all surrounding

Down from their crests the cold cries flew

As messengers with some God given truth

And they laid their wordless meanings down

On the grass blades of this hill fort roof

The foggy sway of the seed heads

The bend and lilt of the wild flower

Showed just how nature would obey the voice

Of the Mountain’s power

The wind was blowing still as I left

And followed the winding path down

But I had been warmed on the Fort’s sunny crest

That sat on the hill’s head like a crown

How do you know the Sea?

How do you know the sea?

It is salt packed

Resin baked in obscurity

It is floated

Pine –goated, sure throated liver

Which sings for its meals

From the God-cloud giver

It is rain-hungry swaying mountains and mounds

Which sway in the graveyard of heart thumping sounds

It is beneath the surface and underneath the skin

The greatest secret ever kept from the opening

How do you know the Sea?

You cannot really know unless you’ve searched

From the Loch to the quay

Running on the Mountain

Thunder on the Mountain

And a rumble in the heart

Blood curdles in fountains

The red burn sunders apart

Everybody is running

I want to run too

I want a beginning in some place new

All my life is running

Together through the stream

Like Salmon swimming

Uphill trying to reach the impossible dream

Everybody is running

And time is running out

The bream is fresh

With new life I don’t begin to doubt it

Union Road

The union is undressed

It lies naked as a flower

Here and there the clouds graze low

As planes beside a tower

The mists of the forests sweep down

As sleep descends on Fort William town

And the black loch lies like a dragon

Deep in the confines of his bower

Black are the pools

And cold as a throbbing heart

Eecking out the stress of the years

The way an urchin eats a tart

Gorging on the succulent moss

And sobbing on the green rock

The mountain bleeds with pine seeds

The way a bread loaf falls apart

Living on Union Road

I’m living on Union Road

But we are so divided

My mind is two sided

And this country is in the jaws of a shark

A tree lies like a match on the slope side

Then a thousand more over the park

But a puff of smoke by the rail side

Is enough to cause a forest to spark

Puff on old Billy, puff on

The rebels are hauling their chains

You can hear them in the falling rains

Laying the sleepers to Lanark

You can feel the Jacobites march

That footfall in the Glen through the dark

Now that Scotland will be free once again

All it takes is a steam train to spark

Oh the Union is undressed

And lays like a flower in the cold

Standing as the Thistle grows

Ever new to the fight

Ready for  a war with the Rose

Living on Union Road once again

Yes I’m living on Union Road

There is method in the madness

And tears in my sadness

While I’m living on Union Road