Light Blue
…
a long light blue shawl,
the colour of forget me nots,
used now as a tablecloth,
a way of remembering
those days I suppose.
…
It hangs on the wash line,
stained by a spill of red wine,
remains of the house party,
celebrating your birth
and the four years since your return,
…
Distant memories of Addis
somethings still vivid.
I regret the spill, despoiling the blue,
the stubbornness of the stain
lingers still. An evocation of the way,
life turns unexpectedly.
…
The accident of your creation,
the battle of your birth,
the fight for your life.
and now look at you.
…
For Beth.
©robcullen17032020.
And so life renews
….
Picking the last of the runner beans,
dried out, papery pods, left to run to seed
withering vines, clinging to cut ash poles.
…
I run my thumb along each brown pod,
split open, see the gleam of seeds,
nestled in rows strangely foetal pink.
…
Black striated markings, a reminder,
of Yellow Hammers, scribbled
warnings to Adders – dangers close.
…
Each bean wrapped by the silver sheen,
of a delicate silken layer, an amnios of a kind,
such care the plant takes to protect its young.
…
I’ll store them now dried and hardened,
in a dark cool place to wait the coming spring,
plant them in waiting beds, and watch life renew again.
….
robcullen©02052020
robcullenfoto©15072015
