So positive
And sensitive
Two sons
On consecutive days
So thankful
And mindful
Two communiques
In equally impressionable ways
So proud
And regrettable
Two families
With inconclusive stays
Most days I would try to write a poem; it is a practice, as I suppose is meditation, or smiling, or watching the world go by
So positive
And sensitive
Two sons
On consecutive days
So thankful
And mindful
Two communiques
In equally impressionable ways
So proud
And regrettable
Two families
With inconclusive stays
Lead, on paper
Thought exposed
Peace disturbed
So to bring presence
Light, from sky
Path to follow
Nothing so easy
As to bring nothing
Blossom, on tree
Soft, vulnerable
Velvet captured
Bring silk
Bring wonder
As to need nothing
Bring garments
As to take nothing
There is sunlight and blossom
As there was yesterday also
There is work, in progress
As there must also be tomorrow
The body fluctuates, hitherto
As does the mind
Yet the process of writing
Brings peace, with a sprig of joy
Even to write of love
Present love and past love
Words settle the soul
Within is as it is without
Seek out
Stillness, so so quiet
A place to rest
Where minds
Might jest in play
Seek out
Air, falling water
A solstice of life
Where strife
Might wish to meet you
Seek out
The little differences
Movements of waveforms
Where the faster beats
Might storm your velocity
I walked by a river
I hoped to see a narrowboat
It was wide water
With a ten-mile bank
Beside a busy road
I thought it would be pleasant
To drift through sparkling waves
It could be our best present
For me and you
In our quieter days
I hear the warm wind blowing
From Cold Harbour Farm
Across the railroad tracks
I hear the train then going
Turn to see who have turned their backs