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The Speechless Sing - Page 2

  • @60

    @60

     

    The first complaint is from the arch to the big toe, a dull 

    mumble that awakens calf muscles not yet ready to rise. 

    The lower back is next; a right jab, then a left, but bladder 

    is insistent, “Move, move, move!” Together they roll sideways, 

    wobble upright (knee clicking) and stumble, stagger across 

    the floor. Piss flows; lungs croak a reminder that a spray 

    will ease asthma later. For the moment the tourettes tic

    tiredness monitor rests. And the eyes can’t read any of this.

     

    Yet, at this age it’s not too bad. Developed more for comfort 

    than 5k splits, we can stride across the miles, or labour

    in solid bursts of energy. We can laugh, gameplay, throw out ideas

    that look to the future, compete with quick quizzers, wrestle

    a wordle, and wonder at the complexity of life. And still, her body

    snuggles into mine, curves shaped perfectly for one another. 

     

    21.1.22

     

    ©  Craig Muir 2022

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.

  • 1 2 1

    1 2 1 

     

    10.1.22 

    Well worn path, where each boot has left its mark in the mud.

    The weekend rain has gathered 

    and pilgrims are faced with slosh or squelch. 

     

    11.1.22 

    Damp, overcast, not yet dawn. The track that was thought 

    to be there is lost in time. Stalled trampers peer

    into the undergrowth looking for deviation or diversion. 

     

    12.1.22 

    A frosty welcome amplifies each distinct blade;

    creating crunch under every footstep.

    The dark clay remains preformed, unreformable. 

     

    ©  Craig Muir 2022

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.



  • 1.1.22

    1.1.22

     

    new-year

    new-hoose

    new-trails

    new-trials

    new places to lose four bunches of keys

    new-rooms

    new-desk

    new-drafts

    new-craft

    new places to partake in slow afternoon tea

    new-plants

    new-rhythm

    new-moments

    new hills inviting long muddy phrases to run wild and free

    new-sparks

    new-names

    new-friendships

    new-mindslips

    new rivers of unaccountable lies

    new-hopes

    new-plans

    new-stumbles

    new-ends

    new maybe’s, ifs and perhaps

    new-questions

    new-shoes 

    new unsustainable views

    new-pondering the where’s and the why

    new-packing

    new-longing

    new unrecognising the fear that holds us firm

    new-circles

    new-cycles

    new cultural-horizons

    new quivers to hold auld lang sine

    new-glances

    new-scents

    nuisance

    new lines to greet the clamour of bells.

     

    ©  Craig Muir 2022

    Creative Commons License
    This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share Alike 2.0 UK: England & Wales License.