Beautiful words

My giddy Aunt it's cold! It's July and I am wrapped 3 layers topped with a shawl and sporting a pair of cosy socks on my feet. As disappointing as the unseasonal turn of weather is, I have had a productive evening in, sorting through magazines and leafing through my purchases from the 50% sale in Borders over the weekend. I am the happy owner of two new poetry books which reminds me of how inspired I was by the BBC's recent poetry season.
There were two poems that stood out in Robert Webb's programme:

The Thread by Don Paterson
(one of the poet's twin sons had a difficult birth and nearly died)

Jamie made his landing in the world so hard he ploughed straight back into the earth.
They caught him by the thread of his own breath and pulled him up
They don't know how it held
And so today I thank what higher will brought us to here - to you and me and Russ, the great twin engine swaying wing span of us roaring down the back of Curry Hill and your 2 year old lungs, somehow out revving every engine in the Universe.
All that trouble just to turn up dead, was all I thought that long week
Now the thread is holding all of us
Look out our tiny house son, the white dot of your Mother waving.

Without fail whenever I read that I get a lump in my throat.

The next poem is written by one of Robert Webb's girlfriends to woo him early on in their relationship - it worked beautifully, she is now his wife!

All kinds of trouble by Abigail Burdess

I'm in all kinds of trouble now
the kind where you wake up on a train and everything, every thing's strange
And where am I? And when did the season change?
I must have been asleep, I'm sure I must be late
I'm in all kinds of danger
The stranger on the platform is not a proper stranger
You're here with me, he says, isn't it great?
And he's right
The kind where there's too much meaning on the edges of sight, because he might be there
The kind where you randomly weep
I'm in deep deep hot water in a boiling hot geyser in the mists in the midst of ridiculous Icelandic snow
You know you should give up the fags and eat fruit because life should last longer, this life should last longer, if someone like him exists
Everybody lock away the razors and save your lovely wrists, someone like him exists.
I'm in every single kind of trouble now, the kind where a kind man could write himself a significant part
I'm in very grave danger of a change of heart

I love the line 'this life should last longer, if someone like him exists'.
It may be trouble but it is the most beautiful kind and for all the uncertainty, I wouldn't say no.....