as down I plummet,
gloved hand on the singing rope,
gloved hand on the bucket’s rim,
a sack for visions across my shoulder,
down, again, into the uttering dark.
And the circle of sky
becomes a high, blue, moon
and, in the shadows, white words bloom.
Almost There
Not far to go.
Over the hill,
and glad to see
the back of it.
Past it,
whatever it was,
and downhill all the way.
The grass green
and the going easy.
For the first time now, in forty years,
I can see home without looking back.
C. P. Stewart lives with his family in North Yorkshire.He was formerly singer/songwriter with the cult band Laughing Gravy, and his poetry has been widely published in England, Canada and the United States. He is currently the poetry editor for Sotto Voce arts and literary magazine. For further information visit: www.cpstewart-poet.co.uk.
as down I plummet,