Poems

Poem

The biggest berries are in the centre
of a tunnel of thorny bushes.
A shark gaping wide,
promising not to nip.

Let in the Stars
Poem

We turn our faces up and jiggle thirty toes,
Morse-coding longing with our restless beat.
When will it come?
Shepherds on the first Nativity, we scan the skies
and huddle,