Jay
She wishes to be known
by her new name now,
so I practice writing it
in sand and snow;
scribble it in black ink
in steam on the window.
Although the midwife
handed me Emily Jane,
it’s only the name I mourn
she’s just the same;
happier now with Jay,
more neutral, more plain –
my grown-up daughter
with her new chosen name.
The Birth of an Island
Subterranean rumblings grow.
Huge, Earth shattering tremors start,
triggering white-hot lava flow.
Tectonic plates are pushed apart
in a hoarse, grating staccato
of shrieks that tear at the Earth’s heart.
Molten rock gushes forth, making
the oceans hiss steam, boil and heave.
Tsunamis form, grimly fanning
this chaos out, across the seas.
The birth of a new island, part
of South Seas’ archipelago
means sailors will need a new chart.
Where the black, cracked rocks do not show
how hidden forces ripped apart
the very Earth, larghissimo.
New Day
Sunset settles on silver sea,
The earth turns one more degree.
As cliff-tops fade and song-birds call,
Night and darkness start to fall.
Lament this end but keep in mind,
Time’s cruel shifts are also kind.
As heat and light drains slow away,
Somewhere else becomes new day.