
A robin singing
from his heart, the only way —
living the moment
Copyright Francis 2021

A robin singing
from his heart, the only way —
living the moment
Copyright Francis 2021

Observe the morning
sun bringing the world alive —
A still mind will see
Copyright Francis 2021
I have two poems (Lilbourne and Summer Queen) in this great Anthology from Milk and Cake Press. It examines the dark, the supernatural, and the uncanny of a long, cold winter. As we move from the depths of winter toward spring, and from pandemic isolation to a more normal life, these poems may be the […]
Dead of Winter — The Cheesesellers Wife

Tree,
they say you’d have a story to tell;
the things you must have seen
unrecorded by Man,
his story not being the same.
But why should you tell me?
If Odin was nailed to you
for days and nights,
his self imposed agony
for insight and divination,
then why should I find those runes
among this moss and muck?
I’d have to stay here a lifetime,
my back to the bark
to hear the whole tale,
whispered softly on the wind
around your mangled roots,
through these open spaces,
your gentle spirit’s presence —
amid the silence of seasons,
of years.
Copyright Francis 2021

He dug deep in the soil,
the loam and silt of a fertile marsh;
from a long line of broken-back men,
inured to suffering and pain,
consistent with their DNA
from far distant crescents.
The men who toiled and fed the idle,
who gave their all to generations,
many to rot in the quagmires
of pointless conflicts, or like him —
alone, prostrate in his garden.
Copyright Francis 2021