Saturday 5 November 2016

3 Poems by Patricia Wllingham-Jones

Life’s Evening  

The book she reads grows ever darker,
the light surrounding blinks and fades.
She counts her blessings, heeds the birdsong
as the book in her hands grows ever darker.
She decides to set it aside, for living,
breathes scents of violets, lilacs and roses,
closes the book she was reading. Growing darker,
the light surrounding blinks and fades.

Bone Flute  

A flute lies
tucked among decaying oak leaves
in the lee of a rotten log
Carved from bone
weather-stains brown
around each breath hole
You cradle it in warm hands
wipe the debris on your jeans
Lift the flute to soft lips
Fill the woodland
with living sound


The barn owls screech good-night
just before dawn.
The outdoor cat flings himself
at my window,
hits the wall instead with a thud.
I jolt awake
as I do so many mornings.
The indoor cat
curled behind my bent knees
murmurs complaint.
In those first few minutes,
world far away,
I lie nested under the blue blanket,
my mind rests on you.
I wonder about your journey,
feel a heart-stab,
a prickle in the eye.
In those first soft moments
before the woman
who can handle everything
and likes her life
rises into the demanding day
I remember
being your bride.


Patricia Wellingham-Jones is widely published with a special interest in healing writing. Poetry chapbooks include Don’t Turn Away: poems about breast cancer, End-Cycle: poems about caregiving, and Voices on the Land.

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