To Clare

Poetry

Oct 12

Grove of oaks for a cradle,

“A beautiful girl who knew God loved her”

View over the village,

Brays Farm below - home

Aerodrome beyond, biplanes buzzing.

Gatwick in the distance,

Planes taking off, landing

Jolly hollibobs, while the world burns

Trees soothing swish

My heart rests.

Brain raging with

a thousand fears.

Far away from here

The Mother cries

Lungs, bloodstream,

plastic-clogged, choking

Billionaires play

at shooting off

to ravage another

celestial body

The oaks don’t mind.

Steadfast, whispering,

Everything is ok.

Here with you,

for just one blissful slither

of a quiet moment,

I can believe them.

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