Good Wine from Goldfinch by David Leonard Briggs

Walk with me through St. Andrews Park,
By the chestnut trees,
Where the Tai Chi man
Moves like a dying swan.
We'll brighten in the winter sun,
Talk about how things get done,
And maybe I'll write that resignation letter soon,
Find somewhere we can hide away -
A little house by a lake,
Learn to farm apple trees,
See them blossom in the warm spring breeze.

Some days we might walk the escarpment.
You should see the view up there -
You can see the reservoir,
The fading lights of the power plant
Far out on the estuary,
Where the river runs to sea
And the oystercatchers forage in the sand.
The ferry sails to and fro,
But there's nowhere there for me to go.
Time's just an unwound clock,
An MGB on cinder blocks.

Sun, soil, and time make good wine.
Don't let it sour on the vine.

Have you seen the starlings in their dusk routine?
Must be a million or more.
Their instinct-perfect waltz across the sky.
How can you tell where you're supposed to be?
Was there some signal I was meant to read?
Well, hold my hand,
Perhaps we're halfway there.
The tarot reader at the fairground stand
Is dealing an auspicious hand -
All cups and coins.
Time to make a choice.

Sun, soil, and time make good wine.
Don't let it sour on the vine.


Vox / Gretsch Electromatic rhythm and lead guitar / Hofner violin bass guitar / Kastner studio piano / Roland TD11 drumkit

• Folk
• Somerset
• country blues
• folk blues
• poet
• singer-songwriter
• United Kingdom