Roses and Wolves (feat. Hailey Whitters)

Let You Know When I Get There

Night Diving (The Cost of Growing Up)

Where To Start

Take This Plane

Wherever I'm Going

How Can I Ever Get Over You?

Go Find Less

I'll Be Right Here

I Didn't Come Here To Leave

My Side Of The Family

Yellow are my Springtime days
Yellow in so many ways

Yellow my sweet Primrose head
As it peeps from its green bed
Yellow the Welsh Daffodil
Blooming o'er the vale and hill

pastry flakes on morning lips, tide lines on our shins,
tenby roofs like pocket sweets, gulls that draw their pins.
we are two small orbits near, bright and never fused,
salt on sleeves, a paper bag, kindness not abused.
peter laughs and takes the tea, steam like braided light,
we are easy, we are near, still apart a bite.

shells are little listening bowls, i hold one to your ear,
hear the far and hear the near, both are somehow here.

lift your wandering feet, let them roam, leave your house to come home.
home, home, home to be, home made by you and me.

we circle soft, we do not bruise,

we choose and choose and choose.

cornish light is lemon-warm, quiet on the bone,
small beds, small hands, windows open, everyone half-grown.
litha night, the matches wait, pastry sugar stars,
peter tells a folded tale, we listen through the bars.
piggyback tired, freckles rise, sand in every seam,
we are stitched to separate skies, meeting in a dream.

i name a flower princess, yellow crown that sings,
daffodil in cornwall wind, bright and gentle things.

Yellow sunshine filters through
Glistens on the morning dew
Little Aconites appear
Welcoming a New Year
Gorse so golden guards the wood
Snapdragon nod their yellow hood

lift your wandering feet, let them roam, leave your house to come home.
home, home, home to be, home made by you and me.

shoreline draws the chalk and foam,

we read it like a poem.

we are lanterns on a cliff, close and not the same,
names like stones in shallow pools, warm when called by name.
i reach and you are nearly there, near enough to know,
love is in the turning toward, not the final sew.

i wave, you wave, the waves they say, not yet, but carry on,
the sun puts butter on the sea, and all the ache is gone.

tenby, cornwall, two bright mouths, one long tide between,
pastries, salt, a paper crown, summer on the green.
peter, you, and me in twos, circles small and kind,
horizon is a soft blue line we practice with the mind.

i keep a shell, you keep the tea, we keep the sunny crumb,
when we cannot touch at once, we hum and hum and hum.

lift your wandering feet, let them roam, leave your house to come home.
home, home, home to be, home made by you and me.

if we circle and never bruise,

we still can choose and choose.

home is where the turning slows,
home is where the wild light grows.

Changing seasons
Cold or mellow

None I love as you,
My little daffodil,
Springtime yellow.

horizon of home

Where To Start

Max McNown

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