March 2013

dark night —
the seed of love
now spent

it is finished!
the charge of sap that drives
my birth to bloom

priestly prayer . . .
a pedophile grooms
his millstone

cold comfort —
a usurer warms himself
with moth balls

silent tomb . . .
the husk of glory
rots within

rehab farm —
unspent shells weather
into ploughshares

autumn rain
the colour splashing out
of her steps

moonstruck —
a river wanders off
in the dark

just for today
the blossom that was
never mine

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