Like Swept Chimneys…
(Near Coniston Water, Cumbria, March 2012…)
Sprouting from summits
Of Lakeland fells,
Occasional sparse trees erupted,
Rather reminiscent of my dad’s chimney-sweeping brush
On dismal days
With fiendish father
And moody mother,
Who wished to remain uninterrupted…
I would have been dispatched
To watch for the emission
Of the spiky, tonsured, rattling rod,
Which triggered an exultant rush.
Then, swallowing my trepidation
I watched each screwed pole being meticulously
detached
And, daring not to speak
As white dust sheets thrashed
Around the billowing, cascading soot,
The filthy bristles reappeared,
Keen, erect and dashing black,
To my reticent and fearful fascination…
Pete Ray
Distant trees on the Lakeland fells skyline reminded me of my father sweeping the chimney at home when I was a child…