Les Wicks


The Avalanche

Daily he added stone to his garden.
As winter spread its infection the walks were shorter
his bones fought nerves up towards the peaks
that he would never reach again.

His daughter came by
worried at this new obsession.
Was it the mind
that truly wandered?

He worked beneath the shelter of his plan.
Pitiless months held back the spring.
There was the chock & rattle of the yard,
scree of a life.

Not one casual choice.
What is living if not method?
One day it might be a polished pebble,
the next a shard from the bones of Green Hill.

After a while, less talking to be done.
Why explain any obsession
amongst a species so cluttered with them?
In his trees, the birds repeated themselves.

He was found smiling in the flowers
that had defied the flinty impossibilities of his yard.
A last season had erupted as breath fled.
He knew each memory had mortared his cairn.




Les Wicks has toured widely and seen publication in over 350 different magazines, anthologies & newspapers across 29 countries in 15 languages. His 14th book of poetry is Belief (Flying Islands, 2019).

http://leswicks.tripod.com/lw.htm

 
 
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