I talk to I, I talk to you
It is what we do, we do
First person, second or third
Flying as a bird
I sit with I, I sit with you
It’s simply what we choose to do
One person, or two, or three
As leaves on the purperley tree
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
I talk to I, I talk to you
It is what we do, we do
First person, second or third
Flying as a bird
I sit with I, I sit with you
It’s simply what we choose to do
One person, or two, or three
As leaves on the purperley tree
I talk to the wind
The wind does not hear
The wind cannot hear
King Crimson I talk to the wind
Perhaps today we might share a conversation
As you warm me up
As you cool me down
As you sway the grasses
At my feet
To and fro, to and fro
What’s that you say
You have come a long way
And you have many miles still to go
Further than I might imagine you think
To places that I have not ever visited
And maybe not even dreamed of
I didn’t come here to talk with you
But that’s how it’s turned out
Have a nice day
The river, most probably
Came to the hillside
And thought it best to turn
The sheep have gone
During that one meditation
When we were told the rains are due
The tree on the horizon
With the silver skyline
Is gifted its own highlight
The sheep haven’t gone
I cannot see them
But I can hear them
Canoe on the river
Brilliant orange affair
Oars create waves
Waves ripple to the shore
A serious walker
You can tell from her pace
A slower walker
You can tell from unsteady steps
Swallows, swifts or house-martins
Put on a red arrows display
Now they are all here
Swooping and gliding
And just so soon they’ve gone
Making way for a pair
Of smaller birds
Who come together with a kiss
Maybe I wouldn’t
Remember you
And maybe I shouldn’t
Say I ought
Perhaps it was you
Strolling beside
The library
Window
Or within those glimpses
Of blue blue sky
Seen through the leaves
Of the big green tree