Crucifixes

I've just got back from France, which I will write about more in the near future. But as I am going away again tomorrow I thought I'd share three of the crucifixes which I saw on holiday. They were dotted over the landscape where I stayed in such quantity that I decided to document them. These are three of my favourites, with the one on the right being my absolute favourite.

Swimming man

Sparse wet hairs age his foetal form,
Suspended in liquid
A metamorphic man-baby.
Swimming.

Words

I paint a picture with words,
The colours stir and splash.
A thick line and a thin one,
A dot, a ragged dash
Syllables, blue consonants,
Come pouring from my pen,
A textured vowel, an open 'o',
Sibilance, and then,
The poem seems to peter out.
The flow of words has ebbed.
As we will meet our maker soon,
Each 'a' will meet its 'z'.