A GULL IN THE MOONLIGHT
I have longed to leave and be not afraid
Take these wings beyond the listless land
Let the sea erase that bight of sand
I have come to soar and sightless to fear
Let me hush the clinging shores of here
Take these wings and crave this night
I have longed to be lost and be not afraid
I have come so far and to be so near
These wings will brave the flight of light
THROUGH THE KITCHEN WINDOW
The damp and slump of weathered branches
made light with a sudden breeze, and leaves
no longer sullen, uplifted to scatter...
time to believe in matters of chance?
The souls of spices arise from the pan,
my wooden spoon a turmeric moon,
and our pandemonium of kids and you
chasing leaves. I can see them.
Phil Wood was born in Wales. He enjoys painting and learning German. His writing can be found in: The Fig Tree Coal Mining Anthology, The Shot Glass Journal, London Grip.
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