dubrovnik

City of cats, spackled by shells
firing the red roof-tiles black
chalk outlines the corpse of a city

risen again, swathed in stone and moated
scene of dragon battles staged
where tourists climb the sides of churches

children hang off bas relief fountains
and swarm, ride scooters through squares
dripping sweat and screaming for pasta;

synth sing-a-long at church, jeans
and bad haircuts, long dresses
cross the chest and shuffle behind pews.

Quiet in a vertical garden, sloping
down to the sea where cactus bulwarks
fortress the cliff against the waves

flecked in cinders, they pixelate a peace
that spreads across the Adriatic’s
azure solace, Croatia

maintains, embraced by octopus
split by former comrades, edge that
boomerangs Westward to Europe.

new year's sonnet

At turn of year, some doors are closed forever
while others open new on gleaming halls
in mansions bright; as prodigals we find
this welcome hearth unearned, yet still endeavour
to prove our worth.
                                       The gloom of winter falls
away before the flame of spring; tall pines
embroidered in fragrant buds bend to fawn
upon our hopes and teach how nature solves
the puzzles set to life. We read these signs
as affirmations: tracts that note the songs
of seasons past and clear the undergrowth
for blooms of May.
                                   A year to nurture time’s
long generations into future dawns
upon the hidden glades where saviours spawn.