~

under a rare pale grey, 

sky, so thin it appears 

translucent, we scurry

about our deliberations,

its feeble pallor cast 

meekly down upon us, 

like the oceans, we too

reflect the colour of the

sky, taking our moods 

and mindset from its

random offerings,

on this ambivalent day 

we shy away from levity

knit our brows and 

procrastinate, hoping

something will turn up,

surely there will be

better days ahead

*

© Graham R Sherwood 10/25

~

if faith is thought

and exists unseen

why do some think 

thought to be obscene,

which part of thought

irks some people so

they think it right to

cast a blow,

is it thoughts

that are thought aloud

to help the thinker

feel justly proud,

that others think wrong

to spread such thought

and think to stop it

with violence wrought

so, if faith is thought

and exists unseen

just let it be

and think again

*

© Graham R Sherwood 10/25

~

darkness comes

with a stealthy tread,

its silent cloak ushering

in primeval fears that

birth deep within us,

time slows, night noises

keen in our ears, the

imagined becomes real,

shadows take on form,

it’s time for poetry, thus

from the darkness

words begin to stir

solitary verbs creep

in search of furtive

nouns and sombre

adjectives collude to

 fabricate dreams,

ghouls and ghasts

burrow deeply to

prick and prod the

subconscious mind

then swiftly flee

as we sharply wake

*

© Graham R Sherwood 09/25

~

the grapes are safely in

now yellow-booted egrets 

greedily bother the plough

as it churns beneath every 

other row,

they billow up like 

a freshly thrown white bedsheet

at each turn of the tractor,

nearby in pasture a beauty 

pageant of charolais idly 

watch the din, knowing

nothing of its reason

*

© Graham R Sherwood 09/25

~

hares bound through the

parched sunflower stems

spilling onto the grass, 

before stopping short, 

curiously puzzled to see 

us at leisure there,

this daily charade, comical 

as it is, breathes life into the 

torpidity of each afternoon,

soon the raptors will take up

station on telegraph poles

and with dusk creeping in 

their aerial ballet will begin,

thus we are held and stroked 

in the tender palm of this 

pastoral glove in a willing 

symbiotic exchange,  

our wrapt attention for its 

hypnotic natural benefice

*

© Graham R Sherwood 09/25

~

I am immersed at St Nazaire

its rural quietude hangs heavy

deafening my willing solace,

as a sombre dawn teases the dark

fully ripened sunflowers the 

branches of a mimosa tree 

overhang the French window 

in a black on blue silhouette that 

could easily be a painting,

long seed pods take on a paler wash 

as each minute slips past my eye,

the cool air passes over me like a 

promise that I know will get broken

and I feel challenged by the calm,

*

© Graham R Sherwood 09/25

~

ten of us all told

five couples,

a large farmhouse

and one last hoorah,

the children have 

grown and flown

so we return to stir up

a melange of memories 

before re-burying them 

in this very special place,

boys wedged in trees 

Japanese soldiers hiding 

silently in the corn,

loose banknotes afloat

in the pool, a family 

of coypu in the ditch,

nude students’ GCSE’s

murders, mysteries 

and power cuts, 

pompiers and arsonists

to set the lane alight

opera wafting from the hill

normski toad on the step,

antique chairs 

recycled from the tip

makeshift music

baby secrets kept

torchlight ghost walks

to haunted ruins,

bathroom bats

and shooting stars,

such memories are tiny 

arrows to one’s heart, 

that fly again, then 

settle in their space,

so adieu La Tuilliere 

old girl, you’ve loved 

the very best of us

© Graham R Sherwood 09/25

~

the air is cooler for longer now

and mornings have become tardy,

summer has exhausted itself so

we should prepare for change,

there’s a final harvest due as 

important as the first with

sloes to gin and berries to jam

all before the rains come,

from within this hubbub, new 

words become harder to find,

still hidden behind the equinox,

it is a time for patience

where nothing should be hurried,

the world turns and we

must realign our senses to

search out new truths.

*

© Graham R Sherwood 09/25

~

a lone pigeon on 

a neighbours roof

points to all four 

directions in turn 

like a clockwork

weathervane,

day in day out its

pallid eyes search

the near horizon,

I follow its gaze

absent-mindedly,

wondering.

~

day in, day out I am confronted,

I stare into the bathroom mirror and

try to recognize the person staring back,

the mirror looks perplexed, perturbed 

at my lack of recognition, disappointed,

I see the face, grimace, contorting to

make a faux maniacal smile,

I lean closer to inspect it and

get a clearer picture

the mirror agape, seems to say

‘whoa, back off, what is your problem’,

duly chastised I recoil, whilst trying to

decide whether I like what I see,

the mirror smirks at my concern

‘same time tomorrow‘?

*

© Graham R Sherwood 08/25