The cricket nets
Have been pulled off
To the side of the pitch
Boy there’s been some downpours today
But not in Brisbane, Australia
Where England defeated New Zealand
To head back up the super 12 group 1
After that debacle with Ireland in the rain
If they weren’t so far away
It could be your boys coming to the wicket
To become heroes for the country on this day
When jet aircraft are grounded for remembrance
The Sheveling Wine Estate
Black Americano and Creme Brûlée
Yes, here at the top of the Holme Valley
Overlooking the vineyard on the hillside
There appears to be a problem allocating tables
Although I am sat by a window
It seems that the computer is at fault
Its algorithm’s being somewhat inflexible
I never knew quite so many romantics
Frequented the Holmfirth region
Not at least since Last of the Summer Wine
Brought tears to our visitor’s eyes
I myself, once the mid-life crisis lover
Wrote a levelling up letter, on the moor
Sat by a dry-stone summer’s wall
Where a butterfly kept me company
Law Common Road
On the way
To Cartworth Moor
Past the heather clad
Lands of the reservoir
Past the heathen led
Shooting grounds
Law Common Road
What does it mean
Is it a law
Which marks this as the way
To common ground
Not a place
To be shot at
Into the imaginary
As if the elbow on the knee
Would help the thoughts
To first bring the smile
Followed by a beautiful stirring
Of the heart
The spirit and the soul
How many have fallen away
How many have stayed the course
Yet this one room; home
As it will have been called before
Away from the imagination
As if the balls of the feet
Would follow the pathway
To first say thanks for the smile
Followed by beauty recurring
In the soul
The spirit and the heart
Shrouded by the mist of the green
The curious case
Of parcels arriving
Such are the wonders of rising early
In the light of the soft glow
Overheard communications
Each and every which way
Acknowledge the beauty of keeping in touch
There is a box in the shed
With a name I ought to know
I will go investigate shortly
But for now I aim to simply sit
Sit in that new found freedom
Not known for quite a long while
Such is this love of the time
To appreciate the arrival of morning
You may soon be rising
You may have risen already
Either way let us hope
Your day welcomes you
With open arms
I myself am closing down
Listening to dark time music
Catching me with its chasms
You may soon be leaving
You may have left already
This or that, let it be
Soul and spirit
Activate mind and body
This moving-on lark
It is a tiresome old affair
Whichever way I look at it
There is no TV screen
Just as
Wendell Berry would wish it
There is a radio
Which thus far has been restricted
To Radio 3
Not that I’m a classical man
No it was Pink Floyd
Who introduced me to long playing records
The welcome card suggests
That these are exciting times
With new adventures ahead
That’s it for now
Dvorak from New World Symphony
To close the show
Three rooms downstairs
Kitchen
Sitting room
Bathroom
Two rooms upstairs
Bedroom and Study
I haven’t yet
Spent much time
In the study
I have though
Been rather longer
In the sitting room
Which looks out
Onto the green
It is where I start my day
With meditation
Also on the laptop
Updating my details
The fireplace
So I am told
Is like my younger brother’s
Mother-in-laws
But mine for now is adorned
With my Buddha
Here to meet you
After a band
Of forgetfulness
Here to convince
Whoever needs
To be convinced
That terra-firma
Will be found
Around the corner
And when the architect
First drew his sketches
Who else saw what he saw
The smokers
Are the first to leave
Followed by the undertakers
As the mourners
Drive away
I recognise my car
