In the end there are words…

For Hobboa fellow poet

I had training
at the wig shop today
and came home
by Coppins Crossing way,
where once the cows 
shared their murmurs with the hills,
and that curl of road
was echoed in barbed wire.

But now developers 
pedal out their cubic spread -
see how rooftops 
like snow
flatten the valley

and today
paler than flour’s sift
transient rain mists my eyes.
Temporary as life.

But later I find words
speaking on after you’ve gone
while this great electric puddle
sits like frogs
with keys and eyes, 
listening.

And so my day rounds off
filled in its way with survivors...

twisted in a tonic of scarves, 
we find our colours
the way rainbows do -
claiming light from a storm.

17 thoughts on “In the end there are words…

  1. Firstly, `I just love the way this begins:
    “I had training
    at the wig shop today” – so nonchalant, like of course I did, this is a normal thing to do, and? 😀

    And then it continues with such a nomadic type feeling, butting heads with industry, and then ending beautifully and wisely with those last two stanzas. The whole thing emanates such a feeling of wisdom.

    Liked by 1 person

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