Friday 31 December 2021


I began this poem was on the shortest day. The time, I like to believe, that held a significance for our Neolithic Ancestors, the reason they raised stone circles and the other enigmatic structures. I have no proof of this, it just feels right to me. I am drawn to celebrate the shortest day as the beginning of the new solar cycle. But  enough of my beliefs.


even as you seek

the memory

has gone

so you stare at the ceiling

in the darkness

the shortest day calls to you


you will sight that dream fragment

as you turn the steering wheel

too preoccupied

to give it attention

so it flees

is content to taunt your sleep another night

The poem records events as they happened. A tantalising echo on waking and another glimpse as I drove to the beach hut to watch the sunrise. I wrote the first draft after breakfast, literally jotting down a word sketch. The sparseness appealed.

Thanks to bandcamp for this video. I was taken by its beauty, how the music and image combine to offer a different vision. Thanks to Jeff Parker. His album is excellent.

Until next time.

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