Two Poems by Tess Jolly

Bluebells

Now waking, now sleeping
we’re cradled
by the structures we built from our fear of the world,
its carnival of bramble and foxglove,
sustained by the light we absorbed
for as long as we could stand it
before retreating into the safe, familiar soil
of ritual and behaviour,
secrets kept by the undergrowth —

so what coaxes us back to the lay-bys and woods
where the canopy of the mind still holds itself open
and the retina is plated in that shade of blue
that chimes — dare we say it —
with something like a soul,
wood bell, witch’s thimble, cuckoo’s boots,
so much blue our hearts are drenched, euphoric?
Not magic, not miracle,
but endurance, desire, faith.

In Memoriam

for Paul

I want to say the keening I heard   
in the garden late last night

spoke for all of us, that the foxes   
had gathered to utter our loss,  

but I know it was more likely   
to be a vixen’s mating call

as she hunted through bark
and bramble for her natal den.

Come June, kits will venture 
into the woods where you’re buried,      

and on the first anniversary
the vixen will cry out again

for a new litter to be born,   
knowing without knowing it is time.

Tess Jolly has published two pamphlets: Touchpapers (Eyewear) and Thus the Blue Hour Comes (Indigo Dreams). Her first full collection, Breakfast at the Origami Café, was published in 2020 by Blue Diode Press. She lives with her family in West Sussex, where she works as a freelance editor and facilitates creative writing workshops for children and young people. www.poemsandproofs.co.uk