At

Ambulance flashing

its blue lights outside your door

A Merry Deathmas

The winter sunshine

gentle upon my closed eyes

Warming the pennies

Angels, three wise men

shepherds, Mary and Joseph

Infants innocence

To write is right

Not to write is not

Too right

Sometimes the shadow

is more alive than the tree

A spring in your step

Dead seal on the beach

Sad bag of faded moonbeams

The sea does not tell

Sundial moves its

tree shadow across the room

Turning outside in

Crumpled newspaper

lighting up the log burner

Face of a dead child

ssspits a brassy sun

sleet asleep on a sunbeam

don't you believe it

The potted daisy

locks sentinel eyes with me

Freezing cold outside

Ageing ungracefully.

More like coughs and bladders

than snakes and ladders.

James? It’s Uncle Tom.

Voice deep in my answer phone.

Death here is thy sting.