Backrest

I sat in wait for your arrival
Yet knew my wait was in vain
But I am the stain which shouts out: survival
For it was in the waiting whence you came

I felt the first spots of the drizzle
As the bird's whistle was almost silenced
Only the lonesome gull called out
Only the autumn gardeners heard my shout

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Circular Lawn

I wouldn’t know how to receive you
Except I would find a way
I wouldn’t wish to deceive you
I have other irons in play

But I see you as a deserving cause
If no more to it than that
And of course you can use the exemption clause
On which to hang your steadfast hat

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Crest Of Wave

There is a line of beauty
Which should not be missed
It is as if ones duty
Is the nature of which is to be kissed

It is more than one could hope for
To find the pencil top
Among such a scattering of leaves

Yet with persistence, and lateral thinking
Also by taking an alternative perspective
The pencil top is found

Now back to that line of beauty
Just before the waters fall
It is as if ones duty
Is to be placed here waiting for the call

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White Bridge

To be so sure of oneself
Yet also to be aware
Of the hurt
And the indifference

To know that it is the I that does go on
Yet to map out
To search out
To deliver the ever deeper significance

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Lauds

How might I save my love
For all of the love that I have known
How might I live a life of love
Embracing all of the love that I have known

Should the day begin with the early morning
In joyful supported meditations, opening my eyes
As the light enters from the darkness
Opening my soul; thankful that I am who I am

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