The blackbird was still
I was intrigued by its stillness
I looked away for a moment
But then it was gone
Although on looking deeper
I saw it again
Flitting from branch to branch
Suddenly quite restless
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
The blackbird was still
I was intrigued by its stillness
I looked away for a moment
But then it was gone
Although on looking deeper
I saw it again
Flitting from branch to branch
Suddenly quite restless
The warm sun
Through and over
The winter trees
Through my yard
Small as it is
And on through
The window
Onto this page
A good night’s sleep
But not a good mood
For the morning meditation
The carry-over
From a master grieving
Touched my conscience
Where is the equilibrium
Between sparrow and sky
Where is the imbalance
Between blackbird and spy
Is that a thrush
Which waits on the gutter
Or is it the Sainsbury’s van
With two blocks of butter
Oiled clothes collected
And put in the washing machine
Yes you’ve guessed it - Eco wash
To turn out environmentally clean
As Nick Lowe’s song Indian Queens began
I had an instant flashback
To a vacation in Cornwall
With my eldest son
I thought about the meditation garden
Where I bought a small Acer tree
Which now stands out front
And is just coming into leaf
Maybe I should have thought
About my first holiday in Newquay
When four of us stayed in a garden shed
On our way to The Sailors Arms