They climbed out of the car
After a three hour drive
From the airport on the coast
Stepping over the threshold
To enter a weekend of escape
Writing, reading, painting
Listening to music
Going to the theatre
Their prodigious lovemaking
Gave energy for the workplace
Where technical innovation was
Married to commercial persuasion
In this way he now believes
That art and love
Had brought renewed endeavours
Recycling
The Valentine’s card
How much psychic energy
Can one life carry
Validation
Of one’s skills and resources
To turn something out of nothing
Into a thing of desire
And so, yes, why not
Make a film
Out of this whole feeling
Of artistic endeavour
This, an alternative way
For learning and understanding
To bring aesthetics into the conversation
Of reason and discovery
It seems to me, fairly clearly
That an artist talking about their work
Is far more interesting
Than having a scholar tell another’s story
Being told that the painter
Is bleak and melancholic
Is nothing like as immersive
As the painter revealing the pathway to his own soul
It isn’t so much the inspiration
But rather the inner mind
Which strengthens the exposure
This I must remember
Also that hope should always be apparent
That the smiles of love ought to permeate
Into the very fabric
Entertained
By a squirrel
On the house roof
I watch from the old stables
Waiting
For the speed awareness course to begin
He, or she
Tries several escape routes
All to no avail
I think of this speeding occurrence
Also the previous one
Several years ago
That time I was heading for the seaside
This time I was returning home from Hockney's place
Both times I was well out of my manor