Poem: January Journey (from Dorking to London)

Row upon row of empty, desolate vines

Like War Graves;

A Mole swallowed by a python

Snaking destructively through the cleavage of Dorking’s sodden hills;

Brave and noble, Ancient Trees


Beside the dismembered limbs,

Torn and severed

Of many a young comrade.

And Yet

Catkins like Christmas decorations

Pussy Willow fluffed up with joyous anticipation of Spring’s first kisses;

A soft smile from a child on her way to Nursery

Safely nestled in Mother’s arms;

A sweet, “Thank You!” unbidden from another

As I politely stand aside:

Good manners are delightful!

And, the icing – a gracious exchange of

Genuine “Good Morning!” from the perfect stranger

On her way to Friends…

Not all bad then

But surely the snows must follow?


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