Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
One boat
One man
One noisy noisy dog
One island
One quiet quiet life
Say hello
Say goodbye
See you again tomorrow
Go now
Go downstairs
Find the love
Of early mornings
Sat at the kitchen table
With pen and paper
And a mug of tea
