NEW POEM: 01.09.25

Words for Summer

I’ve wondered if there are words for it,

the end of August, all this loving you.

Blackberries at Burrington, the sea at Brean,

a half of something local at The Plough,

in its garden in the sun in the heat,

or trying to learn to dance, where to stand,

how not to grip your hands too tightly in the hold,

the right amount of tension in the arms.

I’ve wondered if there will be words for it

again, now summer’s over, and life,

the working world, with timetables and terms,

is calling our names in its register

to which we must respond with ‘here’ or ‘present’

even if we’re not, thinking only

of garden and picked fruit, The Plough and the sea,

of hands and of arms and of holding.

This poem comes from Andrew's second collection, Stay, which you can buy a signed copy of here:

Andrew Jamison