Plums

The pleasure of a plum
           ripe for the plucking
ripe for the eating
           and the moment
of biting into the soft
           sweet flesh
in August
           and a crop of plenty
jam today
           and jam tomorrow
but the moist
           fruit on the palate
in that moment
           the precise reality
of it
           as though I was
born to it
           and the memory
of the sloping garden
           the tree laden
and the shade beneath it
           the child I was then
before I knew
           what a woman
really was
           but knew my tables
and could do my sums
           and had no idea
but for the present
           wiping away
the dripping juice with
           the back of my hand

John Lyons

Topographies

What made you think
your world would
never change
and when it changed
what made you wish
it had forever
remained the same

at sunrise the spherical
drops of dew
that cling to the grass
refract the light
creating the illusion
of a field of diamonds
such a rich sight
for any eye

this street is
a never-ending text
written and rewritten
in the mind
here the dust
of our forefathers
dropped out of sight

no fire is ever
truly extinguished
it burns on
in the mind
cinders and ash
and the stuff
of human dreams

John Lyons

A breath of fresh air

It’s as though the wind
           has a mind of its own
blowing in one direction
           then another
sometimes gusting
           as it is today
rustling the leaves
           of the bushes and trees
at other times
           scarcely felt at all

Some nights it howls
           or whistles under the eaves
as though it really
           has to make itself heard
I know it’s just weather
           but it is a presence after all

There have been days
           when it has blown
so sternly in my face
           that I have had to lean
into it and hope that
           it would soon pass

Yet on other occasions
           it has egged me on
swept me forward
           almost off my feet
into the arms
           of the girl I love

John Lyons

Morning

Out on the street
animated voices
people making plans
exchanging information

somewhere close by
scaffolding is being
erected
and the shutters
of small shops
are opening up
for business

suitcases dragged
over the cobblestones
sound like the canter
of horses

once I’ve had my coffee
and a bite to eat
I’ll be out there myself
part of the throng
building the day

John Lyons

Oak forest

I remember when these oaks
             were planted
a tight cluster of eighty saplings
             a made-to-measure forest
or at least one in the making
             this was back then
when the road was widened
             to cope with the boom in traffic

I would cross these fields as a boy
             on my way to my first school
where I learnt to write
             with chalk on slate
The games I’d play
             the conkers and the marbles
and my pockets always bulging
             with victories
and I remember how I revelled
             in the simplicities of life
never dreaming that one day
             all my certainties would fall away

John Lyons