Happy Christmas, everyone. I don’t have any Christmas poems (I just keyed Christmad – Freudian?) and I haven’t mastered the trick of adding pictures to the blog, so here’s a poem instead and be content with it. It could be gruel. If you have any shiny paper left you could wrap the poem in it, or alternatively insert it in a chocolate, although WARNING: it may be nuts.
When you slip under
The long lying line of waves
Strange shapes will come
Silently propelled by waft of flipper
Or sinuous pulsing of a streamlined torso
And some maybe you knew and had forgotten
Dirt shovelled over the well has been removed
Remember the time before you broke the surface
Gasped, fumbled, burrowed
And survived by stratagem?
Now you return to them
Learning to be like a fish
Wander and linger
Here where the pearly nautilus waves unchanging
Here with the ammonite and plesiosaur
And where squat fish that never see the sunlight
Thread through great feathery banks of frond
Of hidden sting and jaw
Do you rise up towards the scattered sunlight
The crushing waves, the inconsistent wind,
The seabird that will fly to a rocky island
Drawing life from the depths, their crowded night?
When you are playing with the waves
Will you remember
Here on the fine-grained shore (maybe imagine)
Beneath the corals and the painted fish
Down with the vents, the eyeless creatures
Some heavy hidden box
That had an answer,
Where you will return?
Will you return?
Anyway, Happy Christmas. And if you’re reading this in June, Happy Christmas to you too. Just imagine it’s much colder (or much hotter if you’re an antipode).