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Saturday 7 March 2020

Four metres by two metres

Four metres by two metres
Of floor tiles
Followed by the same area
Of wooden decking
Before I reach
My own private pool
Which from two days ago
Became my vacation shelter

The water is clear
And not too too cold
To the bare body
Beyond the pool
A pair of villas
With clay-tiled roofs
And climbing plants
All around their doors

Over the rooftops is the Aegean Sea
Or perhaps it is the Mediterranean
Either way
A vast expanse of blue
To the subtle horizon
Where water meets with sky
Where shelter is just beyond
The expanse of my experiences

A place of vaporisation
Where on occasions
From a place
Such as this locale
Men believed the world was flat
And today who would I be to argue
From the shade
Of my breeze blown shelter



Friday 6 March 2020

Today the beach bar is my shelter

Today the beach bar is my shelter
Only sand and sea
Between me and the horizon
Where sunlight shimmers
On the surface of the Aegean

A breeze on my knees
Sufficient
For me to take off my hat
Whilst looking at the decorative fishnet
Which adorns the curved stone wall
Beside and behind me

The divers
Receive their diving instructions
Exactly correct says the instructor
As one student responds
To his purpose of oxygen enquiry

Shade is the big thing
In this endless sunshine environment
So thanks to the umbrellas
In sky blue cotton and bamboo
Which are placed ever so strategically

The tiny sparrows
Hop on sand and pebble
The, dressed in white, waiters
Carry drinks on a tray
To the mid-morning sunbathers

The instructor, who is still talking
Says they will be in the water by twelve
So still three-quarters of an hour away
Before my beachside shelter settles
Before my coffee-bar shelter quietens




Thursday 5 March 2020

Meditation at Mindgeist

Meditation at Mindgeist
Is working itself up into a shelter
With a website, a book
And a series of guided meditations
All by your good-self me

A fair amount of the book
Is anecdotal evidence
About my life with meditation
Which as you might expect
For a man of my age can become vague

Yet the process itself interests me
In my morning meditation
I think of four or five words
Which I remember
By saying them as my mantra

Each of these words
Then becomes the title
For a chapter, a couple of pages
Of writing which link the word
To meditation

Today I wrote up
A section entitled supple
Which took me on a journey
From Centrepointe Research
To mathematics with the Open University

Not to mention the idea
That our golden hours
Are from four to seven in the morning
When apparently, even in search of shelter
We are at our most creative



Wednesday 4 March 2020

If I don’t go

If I don’t go
Beyond the fence line
If I don’t ever
Go visit my neighbour
How could these places become
Truly worthwhile shelters
Then be thankful
That we had friends round
We fed them
And we plied them with drink
We had all manner of conversations
About various kinds of shelter
For one couple
Are going on a mid-life adventure
In a motor home
Whilst another pair
Are looking to buy a holiday cottage
A bolt hole so to speak
As opposed to a simple shelter
We, on the other hand
Already have our decking
Beside a pond with waterfall
We have the old stables
For writing groups and meditation
Our lounge has an overhead projector
I could say that we are pretty well sheltered
Another couple couldn’t be with us
They are on their way to Calais
Then onwards to Greece
Where they suggest we may meet up
Meanwhile they have left
Their log cabin keys
With a friend of ours
Should we wish to use their shelter



Tuesday 3 March 2020

There are roses

There are roses
There are white butterflies
You tell me of your mother’s wistfulness
For her own mother

The decking is my Saturday morning shelter
As I listen to Test Match Special
Transmitted live from Headingley
As the new kid on the block strikes

This is summer; but what of autumn
Or those fine sharp days of winter
Will I need a fire bowl
To provide additional warmth

I saw such a device
On my friend Peter’s outdoor staging
Where I sat on his Adirondack chair’s
To write my notes of shelters of the future

Turn around the sun umbrella
For this is the best of summer
The pond fountain splashes
A frog has found his shelter

While the squirrel scuttles
Along the top of the fence
And the breeze
Rocks the canopy to and fro

There is ample time for contemplation
Even for imaginings of the meadow
Or the rocks, or the outliers
Of our northern isles

However, there is a reasonable degree
Of canvas instability
For this ever to be
Anything but a temporary shelter