White On White

Starbursts

Meteor showers

Invisible depths

Of humankind

Making marks

For soul, heart, and mind

Satisfying body, and spirit

By going back years

Into the sub-conscious

When play, and exploration

Came way more naturally

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Hats Off, To Love And Ice Cream

Always sunshine, but sometimes also rain

Always expectations, but sometimes just waiting

Yes, that sense of being somewhere, sometime

Soft sands, boats on the river; the three-cornered basket of love

Always drifting, but sometimes also daydreaming

Always encouraged, but sometimes just held back

Yes, that sense of well maybe, or maybe not

Warm air, cobbled streets; the three-cornered cornets of vanilla ice cream

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Reason

Would I have been as fervent a believer

In my grandmother’s day

As I am a non-believer

In my own day

What occurred, in those two generations

To make belief in religion such a non-sequitur

Do I now question this widespread lack of faith

To confirm my faith in myself; I am I, and no superstitions

Science, mathematics and the humanities help my understanding

I can work it out, or I can find others

Who have worked it out before me

And who are happy for me to take their words of wisdom on board

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Being Here

I have the strong morning shadows

And the bright morning sunlight

I have no need to strike out for anywhere

Even the sight of the salmon fishing

North of the border does not entice me

I would not look good in waders now would I

Instead my mind dances amongst the greens

And the yellows and the pink champagnes

Of the blossom trees enjoying the stillness

The garden is a reflection of the calamitous

Yet calm times which we find ourselves in

But it is the form and presence of the leaded lights

Which remind me that prayers may need to be said

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Letter

I could not write but to tell you, in this correspondence

About the blossom which now surrounds our neighbourhood

I know that the April showers and disturbing winds cannot be far away

Which will leave the soft pink and white petals saddened and scattered

Down the pot-holed driveway, and also across the newly-mown lawn

Everything is impermanence I am reminded, as I feel the sleep and the pain

Enter and depart from my body; side by side, part by part

The secrets are not in there, they are not even everywhere

However deep you trawl the deeper waters they are steady

It is the only tale which remains to tell, or to hear told

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