Sunrise

The floodplain is still
With our weariness, the days end
Back to the wooded hill
Our leaning shadows lengthen
And though our bodies rest
Our minds still reach up through the leaves
For the purple Pershore plums
Thread smooth ladders through the trees

The sun sets on the vans
As the abbey bells peel
Through the radio hum
Over the silted fields.

It splinters through the crates
And seeps through the churns
Over Mick Preece washing
Its gilt ray turns
All for a second to gold.
Water like a scar snakes his ribs
And glints and drips
into the swilling bowl...
The sun sets in Georgia's eyes.
The sun sets and the wasp hum dies.
The sun sets in Georgia's eyes.

Naked to the waist
Tight plum stuck skin
On my arms around her
In my wasp numb touch
As the flood plain floods over us
In the green darkness of the grass smell
And her river scented dress
And the TV's flicker grey
And they flicker blue.
And there is nothing on the flood plain.

A child's voice sings with the sunrise
Its boy-voice high and thin
As still as the morning reeds.
The sun rises with the babies heads
To the mother breast.

Dialogue

Doves circuit the sky.
In the room where I woke
I heard them fly
Like a rush of blood
Into the endless blue,
Out into the blue.
Reflected light
Trembles on the wall
Where Hannah lies.

I thought of you
And all the things I'd say
All the things I'd say to you.
Out into the blue...
All the things I'd say,
All the things I'd say to you.

She thought of time...
Saw herself by the lake.
The house behind
Ringing with a tune
Of glass and chandeliers...
Her loneliness grew.
The evening brushed
Through her auburn hair
And closed her eyes.

I thought of you
And all the things I'd say
All the things I'd say to you.
Out into the blue...
All the things I'd say,
All the things I'd say to you.

Wooden  Leg

This arc sun burns
His back brown
High road heat
Outside this town.
This arc sun burns
Flecked with dew,
As he stoops and opens the traps
He looks up into
His darkened room.

His box of birds
Weighs him down
As he walks
Far from this town
His box of birds
Shrills and flutes
As he climbs
The straw withered slopes
He looks up into
The harvest moon.
Long live the weeds
Brushing his wooden leg
Long live the weeds
This harvest moon.

With the grace of God
And the gift of peace,,
The strain of timbers
Beneath my feet.
Beneath my feet.

As I sail alone
These uncharted seas
One woman's love
Could set me free.
Could set me free.

A score of years
My hellish home
Aboard this ship
That dies of shame
No helmsman holds
The port of souls
Of life and death
To me denied.

In the pallid night
With no stars to guide
The trades of hope
Raged in my mind.

In the hallowed land
Of my fever dreams
Your fathom passion
Releases me
Releases me.

A score of years
My hellish home
Aboard this ship
That dies of shame
No helmsman holds
The port of souls
Of life and death
To me denied.

The Flatlands

She knew in time that
The gate would swing
She knew in time that
She would look up and see him...
Behind the elms
The snow clouds were gathering
Into the winter
Her voice would sing.

She would stand and face the wind
Over the flatlands came its tenor roar.
Its legion force,
And she would sing.

Beneath the pylons
In lace white fields
We cut the violets
That came like phantom spring
Dress billowing
Down the path into the wind
She knew in time that
The gate would swing.

She would stand and face the wind
Over the flatlands came its tenor roar,
Its legion force,
And she would sing.

Out of the silence
She raked the leaves
I stood beside her
Beneath the giant trees...
I thought I saw
A figure wading through the corn.
She knew in time that
The gate would swing.