Fecund past


Photographic: DWV

Fecund past


Months move

with a peculiar liquid sound

as they flow along,

glaciers of time

sliding along the inclines

of perceived reality.


Dates are scraped along,

mixed up with Sundays,

broken Fridays, Wednesdays

battered by the cold of mindless hours;

the gravel of minutes

left behind, cover

the sand of seconds

that is slowly being turned

into soil by the fecund workings

of the past.


A small plant pushes through the soil,

it joyfully opens its solar panels.

This yellowwood

will become tall enough

to become recognisable from the present.