(In memory of Stephen (Reggie) Pearce
The wind blows cold through the churchyard trees
The photo’s small and rather creased but there
We are, a family group in black and white.
A camera has the trick of freezing time.
We’re posed before a boat outside our house,
When evil strikes
In fire and flood
Or untimely death by dread disease
We sometimes wonder “What of God? ”
Alas he’s gone our little friendly rat,
we’ll miss that trusting paw, those gentle ways,
as snuggling close to us content he sat.
Where now that little eager furry face,
From my cottage kitchen window I can see
Two fields away the blue, the shining sea
And ships that slowly glide to far-off shores
Each one a separate world with its own laws;
Goodbye Two Thousand and Four,
Bombs, disaster and war.
When the cupboard is bare
And the cat’s had the cream,
Who cares about a dead fish?
I rarely go by bus but when I do
For safety’s sake I choose a seat well back.
Today the bus was crowded like a zoo,
My seat companion wore a plastic mac,
(The moons of December, January
and February were once known by our
forebears respectively as Long Night or
Cold Moon, Wolf or Storm Moon, and Snow Moon)