Thanks to summer

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Holiday Tuesday

 

 

Thanks for this day, which woke with sun

and rabbits in the field,

thanks for sleep and toast, surf spray, sandy towels,

children running to the sea light-footed,

my family playing in the waves,

all the people loving a wide beach,

the space, warm air,

our baby asleep in the shade.

Thanks for her hand, clenched,

for apples, pitta bread, juicy tomatoes.

Thanks for stones and shells, rock-pools,

blue umbrellas, buckets, joy.

The sand martins fly into their holes,

a plane tugs a banner along the sky.

It should say: Thanks for it all. Thanks.

 

poem and photo Rose Cook

House

My House   My house is a cabinet for small things: fruit bowl, its flashes of orange, green, the pleasure of pears, green tea, a cat that purrs, the length of a settee.   Tall windows, light falls through to yellow up walls, clothes airer, often full, a wheeled dog for small steps, toy box, long staircase, banister, a wide bed for all times, the Turkish carpet to thrill the hall, a bronze elephant holds back the door.   Wholehearted thanks for these good things, camera, candle, witching bowl, a lifetime of books, the earthenware plate my mother used, photographs, my grandmother’s chair, a poet’s bell, the whale on the wall, the Buddha’s stare.   Rose Cook