(Dedicated to Rose Megan Holme)
I knew our whirlwind would last.
We’d hit the epicentre.
I gained trust from your sunflower hearts
that you always offered wearing pyjamas.
My microcosm was novel to you. Even jays
were won; their beauty fooled.
Robin performs, but frustratingly
his love’s a tease too. Only the stillness
of an angler can seduce him.
I’d shifted the leaves. They die to foster growth
on the bed our randomising rescue dog fouls.
Snow is due. Your silhouette will trace
regularly. I hope it will prosper.
Maybe you will synchronise with spring.
Last year wrens built in the rusty alarm box
that not even magpies could infiltrate.
Daffodils form a strong wake from crocuses.
Monochrome days miss them, till summer’s promise
gifts beyond feeding trays.
Right now the seasons are precious.
Michael Holme is a late forties UK writer specialising in poetry. He is also a pianist and an art collector. His website www.michaelholmepoetry.com mirrors previous publications. His wisdom is “Embrace your aloneness.” He marries his second wife on Valentine's day 2015.