He works on the Humber Bridge
In his bright orange, slightly scuffed
Tradesmen’s overhalls
But right now he hangs his head
Over the railings
Seemingly deep in contemplation
Above the silt scoured
Sand coloured waters
Of the tidal estuary
I too, more than once
Approached the precipice
To question what the future offered
I met Dominic
In the Bow room
At Madhyamaka
The UK’s first centre
For Kadampa Buddhism
He was repairing
The four, large, sash windows
His tools, materials and dust covers
Were strewn all over the floor
Also around the temple cabinet
I asked if he was a resident
Or a contractor, to which he replied
That he was a Buddhist contractor
Oh I said, what does that mean
Well; he paused, I waited, he said:
Being fair, being honest
Not charging too much
Being prepared to work extra hours
Having the desire to do a good job
Not to be driven by profit
Dominic is from Norwich
Which has a small meditation centre
Out towards the coast
He came up with his girlfriend
But she fell off the bike
And, with a bruised face
She felt uncomfortable
Needed to return home
He thinks it will take another week
To complete the renovation
Sat again
On the landing
Beside the open window
The van Gogh print
Has been moved
Replaced by a sculptural affair
Both window and sculpture
Are photographed
For future reflections
Tall ceilings
Are in my life today
Long may that continue
Café stop for breakfast
Just like all those years ago
On the way to work at Edwinstowe
Same as it ever was, to the last
The kitchen staff are busy as hell
Doing this, that and the other
Surely grey haired Nellie is the mother
Of the washing up daughter under her spell
And the road, to the race track
Quiet today, but not for long
Sadness, but soon to be a song
All that silent nostalgia; watch my back
Don’t forget fishing men, and holidaymakers
Looking for an early autumn break
With sausage, bacon and steak
A poetry stop with or without any takers
He strolls across
The cobbled market square
Grey shorts, grey T-shirt, grey hair
She takes his arm, grey dress
But blonde hair, au naturelle
There is no disguise for love
Two construction workers
With boots, beards
And safety vests
While Mrs Robinson plays
On the cafés sound system which acts
As wallpaper for the lunchtime diners
Steak and eggs (two)
With a side of bubble & squeak
Which, probably thanks to ample butter
Is way more than simply delicious
Indeed it must be remembered
And, right here and now, it has been
