STAITHES: LIKE SWEPT CHIMNEYS...

 Like Swept Chimneys…

Sprouting from the summits

Of north Yorkshire hills, 

Occasional sparse trees erupted,

Rather reminiscent of my parents’ chimney sweeping brush

On dismal days

With fiendish father 

And moody mother,

Who wished to remain uninterrupted.

I would have been despatched 

To watch for the emission

Of the spiky, tonsured, rattling rod,

Triggering an exultant rush…

And then, swallowing my trepidation

I watched each screwed pole being meticulously detached,

Daring not to speak,

As white dust sheets thrashed

Around billowing, cascading soot…

And then the bristles reappeared:

Keen, erect, dashing black,

To my utter, reticent and fearful fascination… 

Pete Ray

24th April 2021

Trees on the tops of hills near Staithes in north Yorkshire, reminding me of my father cleaning our chimney in Birmingham with his own set of rods and brushes…

I was sent into the back garden to await the emergence of the brush from the chimney’s pot.

The trees on the hill above Ridge Lane, near Staithes reminded me of those strange, if memorable days…