It is always dawn and dusk
Time moves on geographically
The terminator line marches inexorably
Round and round the planet
Smoothed across the sparkling Pacific
Cut to shreds by jagged mountains
Rippled across desert dunes
Unnoticed in the mega-cities
Each second brings a thousand tiny awakenings
A thousand tiny refugees from sleep
A thousand predatory opportunities
A thousand closings
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Previously published on In Between Hangovers
Him: I have no idea what I’m doing
Me: Welcome to life.
Him: I was in a cave and now I’m not.
Me: Welcome to life. Just go and hug a hen, it often helps.
Him: I wish I could navigate by Crocodile
Me: Don’t we all?
Him: Mum, why are you talking nonsense?
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2015. This conversation really happened— and going to speak to or hug one of our hens is a proven family remedy for most of lifes burdens.
Crunching down the shingle
Drinking the sea breeze
Listening to your chatter
As you throw pebbles into the sea
Heat is no longer the enemy
Its relaxing powers repaired
Breathing salt essence
In gloriously cool sea air
Brothers gently bickering
Who threw the greatest distance
Your deep voices lift in humour
And how we love to listen
Chilling on the shingle
Hanging out with the family
Talking about almost nothing
Companionably
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
…we went to the beach with our sons to escape the heat, and I broke out in rhyme once more….
The unease of an empty house
The loneliness of children gone
The sadness of a lover away
The concentration of a painting class
The contemplation of piece of art
Busy baking, waiting for family to return
Tramping on a long country walk
Song birds in the garden
Hens around my feet
Quiet to read the difficult book
Peace to find the space where I am me
Copyright © 2015 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Re-blogged from 2015….
Shafts of cellulose stretching to the sky
Leafed about with greens
Why is there always a sense of peace
When walking close to trees?
Copyright 
2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Today we visited the plant place
Delighted in sturdy trees and shrubs
And many small flowers nurtured to full brightness
In a long slow chill spring
By a couple who could be us in fifteen years time
We took time to linger, to chat and choose
Brought home Lavender, rooted stems of Blackthorn
Several small domes of Thyme
“We bought some Thyme” I said to our teen-aged son
Who contested that time cannot be bought
But is spent often heedlessly
Slipping away unnoticed
We bought time in his younger days with reduced incomes
Time spent with him and his brother
Not wasted, but well-used and treasured
I delight in this sturdy young man
Tended and taught, growing to the light
Both plants and children need tender care
Nurseries are a well spring of civilisation
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
The”Plant place” is Wolverton Plants. I wrote this a couple of months ago after a visit on my birthday, and have just found it again on a stray piece of paper. I publish it today in honour of ‘Where are the Chickens’ new baby son….
https://wherearethechickens.com/2017/06/08/blackberries-and-a-baby/
Crowded into the bowl, excitement mounting
Shouting as the brightly coloured teams come on
Every ball is greeted by an intaken breath
Every shot is acclaimed by cheers
The bowler waits restlessly
As the batsman gardens at the wicket
Fielders circle to the boundary edge
Keen to take the catch
Wicket keeper nonchalantly sledges
A crack and the ball lofts high
Leather on willow performing the longed for magic
The Great Game is on
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
First University summer vacation
Getting the band back together
Trying to make it all good
But a winter away from each other
Makes strangers from old school friends
Going on the “last family holiday”
Trying to fit back in
Suddenly square in the round hole
Suddenly a spare part in the family group
Awkwardly adult
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
Driving in a roast red desert
Headlights staring into primeval dark
The untrammeled sky glorious
Above us a bridge of stars
Rivering between rocky horizons
At once near and so very far
Cricking my neck to see
I bounced around the back of the open jeep
Absorbing, amid the shudders, splendor
Star birth and death, worlds hidden by distance
Great glowing nebulae
Fat in the centre, a devouring black hole
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
I wished upon a star
But instead it was a satellite
I crossed my fingers
But that’s difficult when you trying to type
I can’t remember is it
Good or
Bad luck
To stroke a black cat?
Copyright © 2017 Kim Whysall-Hammond
