The Next Day

I talk to pepper seedlings in their earthen pots,
water their soil with gathered rain,
tell them of the hope in their beginning
I am the dark morning, edged with light.
They tell me in Spanish of their home,
talk of cool verandas and burning love,
of their song on the tongue, their urgent rush.
I tell them of the light above them,
that ripples through the sky,
of Sirius the Dog star, how the Twins reach out
but never touch, of the slate waters of the Atlantic,
the cold straits that come between us,
of how my heart longs for heat,
how the days have folded in on each other like a bud.
Leaves on the willow trees blur
and I talk of the promise of seed packets,
their sealed edges, andΒ  ask
how a seed knows when it is time to burst
through its carapace, risk a green fingertip.
I tell them of the crumble of new compost
of pots that keep them snug
for now. The next day, the rain drums
on the glass and the pond overflows
with frogs. We talk of bulbs, their story
of waiting and I tell them their story is the world
waiting for the sun.



Jan Norton, a winner of the Ilkley Poetry Festival Competition , placed in the Elmet Trust and Kent and Sussex competitions, highly commended by Poetry Wales among others, has been published in both the Lampeter Review and Writer’s Forum.