It’s our wedding anniversary today and the weather is finally starting to settle down. We took a picnic out, all the way to… the plum tree.
and we had our first pan bagnat of the year
Finbar was tied up just in case he decided to run off, but I think those days are over. He’s getting very sensible in his old age.
Trixie didn’t move from the chair she’s appropriated.
Ninnie got as far as the doormat.
It’s a good thing we don’t crave excitement.
Fourth of July,
a day for weddings
and collecting memories to span a lifetime.
A day to remember the foundations of things,
hot and leafy in the park,
photos and well-wishes.
Parades of marching men
and weapons of destruction
leave their dusty trail in another world.
In this sky, brazen in the heat,
only birds shriek their threats and war cries.
This day is yours, always will be, forever and ever. I never knew how you envisaged it, the place beyond the veil, or if you ever did, content with just the contemplation aspect and the praising, being religious and a singer. But I have my ideas, my hopes, that your green fields will be greener, the wind carry you, soft as a spring day, and love wash you in an endless tide.
Wind blows feather soft
over these hills, these meadows,
a bright memory
Painting by Odilon Redon
The sun beat down on that day too,
Blue sky throbbing, silver-sheened.
Preened, we two in new-bought attire,
Fire in the heavens and in our faces.
Places taken, side by side,
Pride glowing, new wings spreading,
Shedding the doubts and the fears.
Years we saw of a future shared,
Dared to dream, a bright mist shimmering,
Glimmering lights, star-tailed,
White-sailed and filled with moonlight,
Nightlight, dawnlight, and all the rainbow-coloured cloudlight.
Bright as mountain streams,
Dreams, we painted, ethereal, fledgling-fragile,
Volatile as grey-winged gulls, storm-scattered,
Battered by the winds and settled in our arms, to unfold
Untold joys, fierce as stars, to light our way,
Day after day, until falls the endless night.
This day dawns, so like to all that have come before,
The sun rises in the east as it has ever done
Since the first notes of the song of earth’s creation thrummed
And the bright threads that make its beauty were first spun.
So many years that you have watched with me
Our time together such a little thing
A mere blink of the great celestial eye,
Brief fluttering of an ephemeral wing
In the ticking of the universal clock.
Yet when you take my hand and look into my heart
To offer me all that you have left to give,
I would not exchange my one hot breath of the pulsing earth,
These microscopic years that we have yet to live,
My life, my shooting star, my comet-tailed love,
For aeons of floating in the pure, cold light of the stars.