Tide turning

The tide had turned but no one seemed to be in charge
and so the sea just hung around exchanging murmured comments with the shore.

The sun was busy with the sunset stage;
shuffling flocks of multicoloured clouds according to the brightness of their hue. 

I stood by the edge of the road looking down the low cliff where
pale, summer- bleached grasses trembled in the evening breeze.
Something in me trembled too.

I breathed the healing air with heavy heart, 
out of my depth and drowning 
in the aching impact of another's pain.

But the sea saw little of my sighs, 
busy as it was reflecting sunset skies 
into a bright and liquid luminescent flame.

I have no answers here 
and yet I'm glad I came.   

(c) A McNaught

Tailwind

The  geese came down together, 
flying over the tree tops to the 
saltmarsh creeks.

I heard the ancient gutturals of their call,  
the stridency and potency of language without words.  

Each syllable ran as a ripple of sound In the grey twilight air, 
tumbling onto trees and 
spilling into the evening tide.

They fix their feathers for the final glide.
Overhead I hear the hiss of air on wings. 

Three geese in formation. 
A neolithic arrowhead 
arcs across the evening sky,
slicing  through the fading 
tailwind of their calls. 

(c) A McNaught

Metamorphosis

The wick so perfectly matched the candle that only the faintest rim of wax remained. 

I love the alchemy of wax to light - the captured hydrocarbon sunlight of a hundred million years ago, releasing warm Cretaceous light into the humble darkness of this room.

Dancing to a different music

Let the light in your eyes 
shine with the secret love of life 
that you alone have understood.

Let there be a song for you 
in the silent things of earth and sky; 
the eloquence of trees, 
the poetry of  clouds, 
the love-song of the morning light.

Forgive the world that fails to see 
the things you see 
or hear the music of your soul 
that sings such melodies 
as skylarks  crave.   

Forgive...
and smile your secret smile 
while dancing to a different music  

from a different source 

within.

(c) A McNaught

This was written for a friend's toddler, a beautiful sparkling child who is also deaf. The words might be a blessing or might be a prayer. Either way, it's a heartfelt desire.

The ache of the isn'ts

It's the isn'ts that ache 
and they take 
by surprise.
There once was a bowl 
where this emptiness lies; 
there once was a basket tucked under the stair
but now that there isn't 
its just empty air.
There used to be rhythms 
of breath where she lay
but now that there isn't 
it's silent all day. 

There used to be greetings
wherever we sat,  
a shadow that followed;
a chin on the lap
but now there's a nothingness 
follows me round. 
There isn't a shadow, 
there isn't a sound.

The ache of the isn't 
is painful and yet..

the is's were worth it 
I have no regret. 

(c) A McNaught


We lost our canine companion of nearly sixteen years. She accompanied the older children through teenagehood and the youngest child through his whole life till then. She was my main kayaking companion and we shared many a memorable moment together on the water. Sometimes it was hard to believe we were different species but then I'd find her eating - or rolling in - something disgusting and my illusions would be shattered...