The Bee and the Geranium

The geranium,
And the bee, have no answer
To give to the day.

The blue buzzy air
Heavy with June rainfall and
a sense of lost hope.

They both do their thing
Knowing their function, they will
Buzz and Blue for life.


Bridgewater Hall (Carol Ann Duffy)

Again, the endless northern rain between us
like a veil. Tonight, I know exactly where you are,
which row, which seat. I stand at my back door.
The light pollution blindfolds every star.

I hold my hand out to the rain, simply to feel it, wet
and literal. It spills and tumbles in my palm,
a broken rosary. Devotion to you lets me see
the concert hall, lit up, the other side of town,

then see you leave there, one of hundreds in the dark,
your black umbrella raised. If rain were words, could talk,
somehow, against your skin, I'd say look up, let it utter
on your face. Now hear my love for you. Now walk.