LINKAGE

 

A wedding and a graduation –

He dressed in finery for both

to mark his pledges

to a woman and vocation.

 

He lacked two little things at first:

his shirt had cuffs:

that was a shock,

causing a flurried search

and a cry for help.

 

Among the smorgasbord of formal fiddlery

in my bottom drawer, I spied

two cufflinks, made by my Dad

during his lapidary phase –

inexpensive gemstones

glued to brassy stalks.

 

James thought them perfect,

seized and hastily fitted, but in so doing

tradition was not overlooked –

“These are great links to my family history,”

he smiled.

 

O CANADA

 

Winter, and the maple leaves are brown,

toasted wafers,

they have sacrificed

green and water

to their trees of origin. 

 

A few soft ones

with delicate skins

reveal old arteries and veins,

quiet traces

of residual hue.

 

Others have thick skins,

hiding histories and old skeletons.

Denying their reality they hope

they may be raised

in a glorious resurrection.

 

But that’s not how the game is played.

New life is coming:

new leaves,

with the syrup of spring –

not theirs, or mine.

SILENT WITNESS

 

‘Working at home’

One wonders

how sharp is his intellect

in a dressing gown?

How clear are his thoughts

when colleagues connect

just by Skype or Zoom?

Missing the dimension of touch,

the spark of random conversation,

only cognition remains to play in black and white

on the screen of his mind.

 

The plant on his desk

Is dead.  Before he left

for weeks in lockdown

he was urged, ‘Remember

to reach out to your friends.’

He didn’t, but It did, flayling,

as it drowned in conditioned air,

an octopus on dry land,

but the Samaritans

were also working at home

and none passed by.