Where is the equilibrium
Between sparrow and sky
Where is the imbalance
Between blackbird and spy
Is that a thrush
Which waits on the gutter
Or is it the Sainsbury’s van
With two blocks of butter
Oiled clothes collected
And put in the washing machine
Yes you’ve guessed it - Eco wash
To turn out environmentally clean
As Nick Lowe’s song Indian Queens began
I had an instant flashback
To a vacation in Cornwall
With my eldest son
I thought about the meditation garden
Where I bought a small Acer tree
Which now stands out front
And is just coming into leaf
Maybe I should have thought
About my first holiday in Newquay
When four of us stayed in a garden shed
On our way to The Sailors Arms
My tea is cold
It’s time for coffee
With buttered toast
I watch the light
Arrive on the green
Blue skies are here
The move is to recording
In a few minutes
My workplace will be ready
Sunlight reflects
From my neighbours wall
Which is also my wall
To the University
Of the Algarve
Then onwards
To Sul
A collaboration
Making real
The dreams
Forging pathways
With delight
In the treading
To the prospect
Of living cheaply
In Europe
West or East
Before returning
To the growing venture
In Grimsby
Where Seth Lakeman
Is playing soon
More than
Yet also
Further away than
That is farther
Than as you appear
Nearer than
Obscure
Yet clearer than
For sure more sincere
Than you might fear
Tapping, intermittently
By the workmen
With the wires
I don’t mind
No, honestly
For it becomes
A source of inspiration
Reminds me of my mum
On the phone for hours
To her best friend Margaret
Over sixty years ago
Also of my decision
Not to have a telephone
In my flat at Anchor Court
Instead I wrote letters
And today
Out in my cold, cold shed
Some of the replies are safely boxed up
I’m not even CEO
In my own home
And I live alone
Why is that do I hear you ask
Well Twitter for one
Someone liking a post of mine
From a week last Thursday
And those guys and girls
On Email, who either promise
To get my website to number one
Or offer me A Rainy Night In Georgia
If you catch my drift, which you might
If you are your own
Chief Executive Officer
He could not be in there
Yet, at that very moment
I thought to be down the well
With Mr Pye
This is the time of time
Not to be elsewhere
As the thoughts tumble
From the subconscious to the here and now
The sky is grey and blue
More one side than the other
The old days become the new days
While time works its miracles
Next door my neighbours
Are having their wi-fi upgraded
He told me this
Two weeks or so ago
The ache that does not go away
The ache that has not yet arrived
Such is the tour de force of life
That no one time will be forgotten
Also, that those same spaces
Those exactly similar feelings
Are not, quite unexpectedly
There for the sharing
A lifetime of individuation
Each one unique
Each one with its own aura
Where only our emptiness dances
Thousands of words
Though not many exclusively
Millions of thoughts
But only two subjects
I prefer myself without a beard
Yet I also would rather not to have to shave
Do you get my drift
I’m not much of a fan of the thesaurus
Oh but that one shave
Will I ever forget it
Have you already forgotten?
No worry, it always was mine for keeps
There was a moment
Back there
Stood on the grass verge
At the bombing range
A breeze
Whispered over my cheek
Carried on with its movement
To ruffle my hair
In that instant
All of the good times
In my life manifested
To gift love to my mind
I was alone
Yet still I feel
That it could be called
A peak experience
