Almost Winter

I think of my sister-in-law, J, a lot, and how, for many years, she encouraged us to move up here. How she died before we got here. How my brother and nephew moved away to Brussels almost the same day we arrived. How nothing ever turns out as you expect.


My Northern Sky

I came here to live under this northern sky
And feel myself ankle deep in cold northern leaves
On a hillside where trees fall down into the valley.

I see you set out bundled up with hat and scarf
And thick warm layers, returning up the steep track
With armfuls of shed clothing, as the black dog
Streaks ahead, not now chasing chickens,
But always stirring the memory, as the little wheeled
Wooden houses came into view, of the day
She accelerated away from us as we launched the kite,
Into a new orbit, way beyond the panic-filled human voice,
Going after the brown tail-feathers, your boy in hot pursuit.

How we talked, walking down through the woods
Where in spring the wild daffodils grew
Or up the stony track towards your home,
About me living here, how we’d have more time
To spend together, all of us, under this northern sky
That comes down to meet the fields divided by stone walls.
But by the time the van laboured up this hill,
Filled with our possessions, it was four years since
The day we’d stood, a guard of honour for you,
As they carried you from the house you loved
‘Feet first’, and drove you away in the dark car.