Three Views of a Spire

Wednesday 9/12/2020

There is a painting on my wall. The scene: a green and tan-toned skyline formed from robust ag-ed English trees

trees line walls

walls — seams

seams between pasture and residence

residences unseen

unseen beyond the trees,

and Jutting —

into a mass of (only dark enough to suggest a cooling breeze) clouds — nearly white…ivory page pronouncing from thin…blue…sky…

The Spire — of All Saints: the artist’s inspiration for this painting (I dare say), and for another fine painting of Old Cockerm’th.

That painting’s foundation is the river (wide and low) and

Now the fields that (all that time ago) stretched wide and green

are built (or being built) upon.


We look down Kirkgate to the spire for the second time this hump day afternoon.

The van’s engine misfires, or the plugs…fail…to start…to glow. I don’t know.

The red clamp clicks onto its vinegary terminal. The black’n sparks off of a ruddy bolt, and the jump-starter clicks-in heart-shrinkingly, un-affectingly ineffective…ly.

She is a Thursday’s child, lending her time (and her borrowed booster pack) to me. She always has a place to be.

I concede (after repeated re-calibrations) to one…final…try… and I look again, up at that spire, imagining Doctor Frankenstein’s fate-delivering bolt (some power that had), but no such power (for me or mine), until I’m quite alone, unrushed, and

leafing the meager paperwork, I find no further clue to the age or frailty of my bled battery. I scrubbed up most it’s chalky seepage, before,

before the final try, and before mustering grace to say good– bye without betraying (needless) woe.

What is IS, so come on, and tidy round (the papers, paper cups, and greasy rags). Oh just… one…last…go… and (GO) it did.

I drove (recharging) around Bass Lake. I’ve known (this) for some time, I must refrain from asking “…why?”

I hark back to our first meeting (where?)…way back there…(when?)…way back…then.

He prompts (teasingly) “Who?”

I…and Thou

here

(and)

now

Published by Kay Keenan

Kay Keenan writes poetry and fiction, and her story "Shoes and Trews and Shell Dust" was shortlisted for the Bath Flash Fiction prize, and published in their anthology "with one eye on the cows". She works as a holistic therapist in the country of Cumbria.

2 thoughts on “Three Views of a Spire

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

KC Bailey

Writer / Poet

Kim Moore

Poetry

Scott Woods Makes Lists

Everything but laundry and groceries.

The Alchemical Self

Go down to the waters of the Soul, by distillation heal thyself whole. Look deep for the Philosophers Stone, in your shadows your light will be known.

Judyscorneroftheworld

About God, Faith, Family and Friends

The Chamber Magazine

Contemporary Dark World Literature

New Classical

Poetry & fiction that make new the spirit of literature

Spelt Magazine

Poetry and Creative Non-Fiction Celebrating the Rural Experience

Pani Bufetowa

Stuff and things.

Plumwood Mountain

An Australian Journal of Ecopoetry and Ecopoetics

Carlisle Writers' Group

Welcome to Carlisle Writers' Group blog, showcasing some of our recent writing and outlining a few of our other activities.

Mitch Teemley

The Power of Story

ways with words in the city of Wells

The Wells Fountain Poets

From First Page to Last

A space to share book reviews and other book related treats

STROMNESS BOOKS & PRINTS

Scotland's only drive-in bookshop

Elliptical Movements

A blog by Billy Mills

Snippets of SnapDragon

Welcome to my cauldron of creative musings.

Create your website with WordPress.com
Get started
%d bloggers like this: