That the tiredness comes is no surprise
But that I should wish to write about it, well
If only to remind myself that I don’t always wake
Feeling refreshed and ready for action
The stillness, the quietness returns
After the jet aeroplanes tours of duty
With this and tonight’s Sangha in mind
I can contrast the fighter pilot with the Buddha
The sun highlights the fibrous extremities
On the arms of the Harris Tweed settee
All I seek then is gentleness and light
Yet still I heard the roar tearing through the sky
That the cup was dark blue rather surprised me
For I had thought it to have been black
It is from a set of four, a Christmas gift
Of endearing and enduring quality
