Movement, Sound And Vision

The river, most probably

Came to the hillside

And thought it best to turn

The sheep have gone

During that one meditation

When we were told the rains are due

The tree on the horizon

With the silver skyline

Is gifted its own highlight

The sheep haven’t gone

I cannot see them

But I can hear them

Coupled Up

Canoe on the river

Brilliant orange affair

Oars create waves

Waves ripple to the shore

A serious walker

You can tell from her pace

A slower walker

You can tell from unsteady steps

Swallows, swifts or house-martins

Put on a red arrows display

Now they are all here

Swooping and gliding

And just so soon they’ve gone

Making way for a pair

Of smaller birds

Who come together with a kiss

Ought’n I

Maybe I wouldn’t

Remember you

And maybe I shouldn’t

Say I ought

Perhaps it was you

Strolling beside

The library

Window

Or within those glimpses

Of blue blue sky

Seen through the leaves

Of the big green tree

Sense

I hear the sheep

I smell the morning grass

I feel the wind

I smile at the sunrise

Beginning The Work

I watch a web being woven

It’s a steady start to the day

The dew on the grass glistens

As I listen to the geese

Fly low over the water

On the opposite hillside

Sheep move orderly

From one field into the other

In the meditation room

There is a breeze to my shoulder

Outside a wind rustles through the leaves

Eyes moving along the horizon

From the dark of night

To the bright light of day

The trees begin as pitch, pitch-black

Gradually turning, or developing

Into a quite brilliant late summer’s green