John Scully

I found yesterday
today,
through unlit corridors,
and saw catastrophies
...

Long ash coats and cherry faces
say nearly, but not quite.
Long grey coats and beady faces
say tomorrow, maybe.
...

Amidst the hills full and lonely
I walked the ragged paths and stumbled stones,
Looking for a kind of longing,
A memory of that one day in June so long ago.
...

On a wild and dreary hill,
the sun still on the horizon,
a running flock of birds
swirled and gathered, home to roost.
...

When I know that evening's fog
will no more haunt and cloister me
I will come and walk with you awhile
knowing that my gloomy face will smile again.
...

When the morning was over
and the sun crumbling noon,
the ants kissed the patio dust
disappearing down cracks of the dead.
...

The muffled-knock of high blown summer,
upon the leaves and grasses August since June,
wrap tightly like bundled flowers,
around the jaundiced seasoned air.
...

Rooks cawed,
over apples sliced and stored,
while nothing else stirred the air.
The day: Had a certain mystery and magic,
...

I thought I heard your morning step
but it was my heart beating
missing steps
as I spoke you name.
...

Western Winds of glory
drive across the waves
are sometimes kind and fair
to boatmen scurrying home
...

For I was reared in the great city
And saw nought but the sky
And the town's people
Packed in their caves
...

Don't break some heart
before you wish the week away
for whatever how it goes
one day will do for me.
...

We walked in air,
cross cliffs and peaks
and at dawn for ever and never
cried for all that there was,
...

Why cannot stay you longer
or wave goodbye
to help untread the knot
within my heart.
...

Close down the summer curtain
and shake the leaves and flowers,
allow the autumn ripples in
the slanted sunlight
...

I have heard the smoulderings
and the sighs from those thin flat stones
where the humble touch everywhere
at what is clear and clean.
...

It's the old miracle,
a sudden burst of inspiration
a once in a lifetime thought
perhaps the fascination of immortality,
...

I was not part of nature
but a drowning man
flattened, pounded, darkened
in the business of the ordinary.
...

I need the sun and sea
the pinks, the greens and yellow caravans
the weathered boarded holiday homes
so isolated in winter squalls
...

I climb up, a final look
its branches once gave weight
to when we went to play.
But now hang useless,
...