Literary Vegan

It is a surprising morning -  Like the cold is trying to be kind. The Sun hits pink on the grass Sprinkled with ice, Glittering. But the yellow-bellied blue bird Above me is the future Sun - The creatures all to come out When wintering is done. We have other selves,  Waiting, To leave the nest of our senses. Then, instead we will see Spirits sparkling, Ours, On the grass. LJ Ireton 2024  

The winter water Is glass clear, but tinges the pebbles  Gold-green while running to the sun  Further down in the stream - Away from the ice times, The heavy feelings I can feel the relief let loose over the rocks, Being. The Moorhen stands a moment - Bright yellow stalks Against the bank shades of moss Holding their own Under the ribbons of time, Splaying wet. I must get up; Let the stones and dirt swirl by my feet Around the light, into the light - Wood walkers will see me with eyes shut - But, such is the effort to be still While so much is passing. LJ Ireton 2024

In the space between us The word 'love' falls like Cloth from a washing line In memory dreams - Undressable with sounds, the way The Sun speaks no language But its own. Somewhere between warming Wet garments on grass blankets And burning through the substance Of this world  Is this feeling, Flaring across the lens, Ruining photographs - It cannot be captured. It breathes Mind to mind - Something the bird takes from  The phone wire, the drying twine And carries to the fire  Stirring the blood under the skin of the sky Before the night, Every night, Every night.  LJ Ireton 2023

There are dried flowers in the candle White; purple stars With faces pressed to the glass Looking out at the raining   Snowflakes Faster than my thoughts  That flurry, only.   ​ I focus on the flame,  O ​ r try to - The contentment of a fallen crystal. But still Wishes circle.   Melting meets melting. ​ Yet w hat could be  Won't settle. LJ Ireton 2024