Not actually sure now when a tortoise wakes up! This poem was about my neighbour’s tortoise a few years ago,
when the tortoise crawls out of hibernation
from the box of straw, do the rings of his ancient shell
shield him from regret
does his wrinkly head recall the sound of her voice
the haunting echo of her wild, warm laugh
as he takes his first bite into a lettuce leaf
are tortoises bereft of feeling
is that the secret of their long life?
In the kitchen
Let’s draw daffodils
and talk about compassion,
capture papery parcels
that hold the tightly packed
buds still green in their pods.
Let our pencils trace
the shapes of ambitious petals
intent on jumping the gun,
reaching out to the world
before their traditional season.
Let’s fill in the details
on their frilly faces
add a few shadows,
for they had no say in the matter
like us simply here in this kitchen
at this particular time.
On the path
I just avoid
stepping on a
I place him
on rain-sodden earth.
After all, anyone
Poems from ‘The Puppeteer’s Daughter’ – New collection underway.