1445

Don't judge, you said; but how am I to live

Without the fleeting comments, angry thoughts,

Unbidden outbursts, snide remarks and looks

Which spill out long before they can be caught?

And even if I have some self-respect,

Can see the other side or try to tweak

The impact of the vitriol, I feel

The chances are I will be seen as weak

Appeasing rather than confronting wrong,

Failing to stand steadfast for the right,

Allowing vicious actions to succeed,

Impotent while they silence the light.

            Yet, as I am thing these things through,

            Judgement is out - and I've dishonoured you.

Brian Hick March 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 31.3.26

 1444

The Red Falcon is

Leaving for the Isle of Wight;

Would I were on board.

Here they only speak

Italian; how do I

Ask for a decaf?

France 1961

In Avignon the

Waiter joked I was always

Writing; I still am.

26 3 15

Re-internment of Richard III

Today of all days

I need a white rose to show

I am for Richard.

Brian Hick March 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 28.3.26

 1443

Southampton

Town Quay, 4pm

Sun breaking through the clouds

My pencil's shadow poised across the page

A pint of Red Cat from the Dancing Man

The Solent silvered in striated light

Red Falcon loading for the Isle of Wight

Prose turns to verse as beer and sun combine

To turn these passing moments into wine.

Brian Hick March 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 25.3.26

 1442

Equinox

The birds have sensed the turning of the days

And rock-bees warm themselves against the wall.

A robin boasts unseen beyond the twitten

Challenging our blackbird's morning call.

Skirting round the oak wood, as I stroll

To fetch the bread for breakfast, tiny points

Of pink smile from the branches which have stood

Barren since the winter dried their joints

Until this morning's sun - poised midway

Between a winter death and summer joy -

Heralded the signs of love to come,

All the gifts that nature can employ;

            As if I can't recall the endless years

            Your love's been there to dry up all my tears.

Brian Hick March 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 23.3.26

 1441

What do you want to be?

How about a gap year before I face

The prospect of retirement by the sea,

When I'll have time to take a break to ask

What it is I really want to be?

After all for sixty of those years

I've studied, worked and striven for the sake

Of others who've my best interests at heart

Pointing to the road that I should take

But while I have enjoyed the way I've come

I've never really chosen what I'd do

The day-to-day simply relied upon

Necessity - the need to get us through.

            Perhaps at last I'll take a moment which

            Will bring a chance to really scratch the itch.

Brian Hick March 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 21.3.26

 1440

Frost on the fields

A heron lifts and glides

Silent

Silhouetted

A dark gash

Glimpsed against

Pale morning sun.

Two rabbits run

Along the hedge.

A pheasant stands

Perplexed, unmoving.

Near the railway line

Snowdrops and crocuses

Crouch

As if afraid

Their colour will confuse.

Commuters, closeted behind

Their headphones

Heedless

Unaware

That Spring

Is on the move.

Brian Hick March 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 18.3.26

 1439

What will be written on my heart

What truths will endure

When all the jostle of this life

And language ae no more;

When conversation and debate,

Invective, boast or prayer

Have run their course, and drifted off

Like smoke, into the air?

What will survive when I am gone

If what I've left in print

Does not reflect what's in my heart,

What I feel and think;

And how can these amorphous words

Ever hope to be

More than a distant mirage

With little that is me?

And will this futile pleading

To try to prove that I

Was more aware of what you were

Before we both should die,

Be enough to overcome

The limits of these words

Which want so much to tell the truth

Yet always seem absurd

When faced with love that reaches out

Beyond the sterile spree

Of words on paper, trusting that

You'll know the best of me.

Brian Hick March 2015

©copyright Sally Hick 16.3.26