Thank you, Graham; I find it easier to respond to these prompts when I can say something I actually feel. It is good to know that someone shares the feeling. Perhaps Tessa will.
When my husband died I kept a pine plank he was working on. He was intrigued by native american chip carving and was applying it to images from mediaeval vernacular decoration.
When I wrote the skip poem I looked at that plank, nailed (!) over an ill-fitting door in a stud wall of my own making. It is too long for a lintel. It gathers dust and houses spiders and many would say I should have "skipped" it long ago.
I looked at it again today. There are three Green Men in a row, the middle one a foliate head with oak leaves reaching out to his brothers who appear to be singing. At either end a beaked creature holds them captive. I realised for the first time that they are griffins.
Between my finger and my thumb
The squat pen rests...
I’ll chip with it.
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