Change of Scene

Lickey Hills in Snow (photo my own)

We are christened by a first blizzard –  

not the first in our lives but here

in this half-year home, where we nested 

on the hottest day, in the hottest year, 

earth curdling at the top of those stairs. 


Now I’m by the window and though 

the stairs pretend to go somewhere

I’d never guess it – numb in three jumpers

willing thick flakes to settle, old lives

to overlay like draped marzipan

or some other façade of celebration. 


Instead foam plateaus wither on the patio, 

demolish cities we didn’t visit last year, 

cradle tired hands we didn’t get to hold. 

Published by Ruth Beddow

Poet, writer and heritage professional based in London, UK.

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