Monday, 13 April 2015

Poem 12 / 30 Instant Replay

Instant Replay


That thing Spring does best;

launching surprises on the senses.

Overnight, bare ground turn artist’s palette,

clusters of colour, like dripped neon toothpaste

flowers painting their self-portrait in oils.


Today it is the nose that is ambushed.

New mown grass, fresh from the blade

clippings tossed like salad

the scent of rising sap making a promise

summer will do its best to keep.


For some reason, it always brings back

a late afternoon in the seventies,

sprung from school, football played

in stretching shadows ‘til extra time

with tea, not dinner and Mum waiting safe at home.

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