And the winner this time is me

 The promise shown by being short-listed for the Portsmouth Poetry competition recently was fulfilled by winning next time out in the Portsmouth Poetry Society competition - there is a difference.

On a theme of 'pebbles', I first thought it too limiting and came up with nothing for several weeks until something I was reading reminded me of Prague and the Old Jewish Cemetery. There's the poem, I immediately thought, and pretty soon, there it was, having almost written itself.

There might only be a dozen or so entries but it's not that easy to win, the PPS people being good at what they do and you never know what the judge is going to like, which makes any such competition a bit of a lottery. I hope this doesn't mean I've used all my luck up for this month. I don't want to miss out on the Premium Bonds.

Starý židovský Hřbitov

The Old Jewish Cemetery, Prague

It’s never summer. They don’t leave flowers.
The birds high in the silhouetted trees
do not concern themselves with their dying
or their dead. Time is deep and history
has parked its solemn cargo where it waits,
as careworn and dishevelled as lost gods.
They leave them pebbles. Any stone will do.
Pebbles that won’t wither like flowers would,
a dumb communication with beyond
in case this was not a last resting place,
in case the wandering goes on for good.