Day 6
The Growth of Ivy : Paul Goodwin
Creeping across the woodland floor, juvenile
Probing, seeking life’s stuff, blindly
Her dinosaur-footprint leaves soaking up the sparse sun
Finding a giant wooden leg, she scrambles towards the light
Straining ever upwards, she reaches journey’s end
Changing, swelling, leaves change to hearts, blossoms
Butterflies and hoverflies from near and far
Most beautiful and desired in maturity
Finally, the fruit, life’s purpose
To reproduce, some falling nearby
Others carried afar in the belly of a bird
New colonies started in strange places
Irene Cunningham
GREEN LIGHTS : Irene Cunningham
Her wig came today.
She posted a pic on FB,
a whole life in her eyes.
I flip back in my head;
she’s fifteen again – funny
how people remain intact.
Thirty-five years hunker
in that space; I re-invented
myself, left her to live.
In the last twenty years…
a bleeding brain, five funerals,
two weddings and big birthdays
drove us together. Now
we’re scrolling for news
as she walks the wards
sucks up the poison, waits
at junctions where emeralds
scatter the path ahead.
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