BERNARD PEARSON: His work appears in many publications, including; Aesthetica Magazine, The Edinburgh Review, Crossways, The Gentian, Nymphs The Poetry Village, Beneath The Fever, The Beach Hut Little stone In 2017 a selection of his poetry ‘In Free Fall’ was published by Leaf by Leaf Press. In 2019 he won second prize in The Aurora Prize for Writing.
On a Summer’s Day
I remember I was climbing Towards the nugget elbow Of an old oak tree, safer than Elm or the whip of a sycamore When the full draft of the muck Being spread across the field Nearly knocked me from my purpose I grasped a branch full of the leaf curl And the egg and cup of several acorns Before my balance was restored. I looked across the field, To a dark copse of aspen Where two men, a father perhaps, And his truculent son, Were tossing sheep From a stone wall into an old river Receptive to such practices, (The river not the sheep), For here she had flowed for A thousand years. She collected the beasts And bundled them Baptised now, onto a muddy, Bank, where they struggled blinking into the light While I resumed my journey Looking for nests in a nestless tree.
I'm a tadpole with no tail to wag like a dog, I have a feeling I might be a frog
The ground does not discriminate It does not love, it does not hate, It accepts you warts and all, Fat or thin, short or Tall, Straight and trans, gay or bi All Find equality when they die. Poor as well as very rich Are welcomed in that final ditch The only thing it cannot hold Is the love you gave and received Before the day that you grew cold.