CGNU share certificate 1998
20 November 2005
The Boughrood Post shop, near ten,
where yesterday watched mushrooms crash,
a cold chat out with Mrs Nash,
with ten pound note, buy one pack, then
I watch the thirst crisps go away.
I walk on to the cold, grey Wye,
peer in water, fishing men,
throw bits of crisps to no fish, then
a wrapped-up baby, mum go by,
I watch the wet duck go away.
Back to the house in Beeches Park,
note smoke come out from Barry’s nest,
a yellow leaf kiss earth’s cold breast,
past mad fence-dog of non-stop bark,
I watch the ear cold go away.
Then once again, go out to buy
a bottle, stuff in jacket heart,
I talk to Joyce; we split apart,
before I meet church, ancient, high,
I watch a light plane go away.
Turn right, the sun... I take the bait,
past off-white pony, young girl, man,
no cars, a quick swig whilst I can,
just to, of course, reduce the weight,
I watch the white froth go away.
Turn past meadow, sheep or horse,
air cold, bright sky, now autumn’s through,
cannot resist crack ice with shoe,
admire distant mountains course,
I watch the high cloud go away.
The Cornhill turn, down incline where
I hear leaf fall by trunk and twig,
the frosting tree in winter’s rig,
the dripping bits go through cold air,
I watch the warm frost go away.
By the junction, I wait a bit,
chat with the sheep, wet mud immune,
a tractor plays an earthy tune,
tough sparrows, and the odd car flit,
I watch the Wye Walk go away.
In the half-gone afternoon, I
take the axe, pick cold wood chunk,
one hefty swing, to crack the hunk,
the cuts go in, bright splinters fly,
I watch the split block go away.
Big bits of chop block bring me cheer,
the tough ones there, the ones I bust
in wheelbarrow, cold in rust,
he’s warm in there, the heat is near,
I watch the thin smoke go away.
Austin, Brian, John, Jeremy
on this brusque, early winter night,
reflect the JRU wrapped tight,
unhappy with the IRB,
I watch the World Cup go away.
The fire glowing in the hearth,
Tchaikovsky ballet, in the air,
he watches from the tea-mug chair,
plate and knife enjoy their bath,
I watch the soap fleck go away.
Then, later, when I try to write
notepaper in an absent phase,
the sleeping bag brings on the haze,
the curtains close the chapter night,
I watch the sleep thoughts go away.
Postscript 21 November
Breakfast tea, pack bag, put in
recycle glass from icy rear,
chat in the shop with Andrea,
buy cabbage, leek, soup in a tin,
I watch the wet stamp go away.
Back to the Mardy house of ice
takes off slow-motion shoe by chair,
then Dad treks back, through cutting hair,
I chop onions, leek, heat fresh rice,
I watch the good heart go away.
