Nigel Pickard has gone kite flying

Two new poems from Nigel Pickard…



The bold colours of the kites

against the bold light blue

of the Spanish sky and

the bold dark blue of the sea.

What little breeze there is

cups the kites, keeps them up.

Naked, we are as drawn

in felt-tip: pink and brown

and black. The yellow sand;

the ruled-line horizon;

the kites, higher, higher.

# # # # #

Children talk and chase
where some autumn leaves
fall. Gusts are sudden
and the leaves swirl around
them before subsiding
again, though the children
are oblivious,
properly intent
on their games, what
someone shouted: the reel,
the churn, the twine of leaves
is irrelevant.
It’s that best kind of
English light, as if
filtered through the shrivelling
leaves themselves, like stained
glass made from their
brevity, that sheen –
like sepia, almost –
even now, even as
it happens, the past
already present;
this northern temper,
things beginning to drift.

* Nigel Pickard's second novel Attention Deficit was published in March of this year. He is also the co-editor of the poetry magazine Fin.

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