Twenty Nine

Listen to the falling rain
Look across the fields
To the loch
Feel the weight of the mist
Know the world is good

See the blackbird with the worm
Smell the food being prepared
Hear the one more thought still asking
Speak to no one but the self
Know the time is good

Solid dwellings, with a vision
A centre for the voice
A place for voices to practice
A firm self, a confident self
Know the self to be good

All the world is a world away
All this rain is only rain
Yesterday such blue, blue skies
Tomorrow; either way, tomorrow
The weather will also be good

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Twenty Eight

On the Royal Yacht Britannia
Champagne, tea, with milk-shake
In a vintage bottle

Every day is somebody’s birthday
However long you choose to wait
However soon you say congratulations

Strolling deck to deck
Looking in on a life, lived
So so very differently

Last used for a pre-wedding
Reception, last registered
In the Cayman Islands

A youth chews gum
Listening to the audio instructions
As the last of the tour disembarks

Once more on terra-firma
Once more on dry land
On our way to the gift shop

A bus to Princes Street
A short stroll to All-Bar-One
For our reunion with such a fine place

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Twenty Seven

So much of a Friday morning
So much of a mango ice drink
Yes, this is so so much of a sense of life
A time to do no more than watch
How easily one foot
Steps in front of the other
How easily one word fell
Before the very next one
Thoughts of light aeroplanes
Blue skies, calm seas, wild oceans
Thoughts of love on love
Of peace laid on calm
No longer troubled
By the River Ouse
Or its tributaries
No longer the man of doubt
Sat here, with the certainty
That today it is Friday
A day that will only get better
Yes, better; then way better still

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Twenty Six

Might I write of you
As I write
Of spring entering summer

Might I write of you
As I observe
The words of Pablo Neruda

Might I think of that place
Beside the apple blossom
Where we might lay together

Might I think of that hut
Which, with a lover’s touch
Could easily be constructed

For no practical reason
But to sit in, to write in
To make love daily

Might the timbers
Give us their sap
Might we thus grow

For no other reason
Than to be nearer to each other
Nearer to love

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Twenty Five

Outside
Sunlight, slight breeze
Green leaves
Evergreen green leaves

Inside
A carpet to lay on
A wall, a door, a window
A book of silence

In transit
My body mass index
My reflexologist massaged feet
My, still-aching, frozen shoulder

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