Part of his soul
Will always stay
With the cricket club
Yet my soul
Is not yet fully infused here
With the sound of bat on ball
Of course there was a time
In another place
Of a Saturday afternoon
And maybe, just maybe
I might relive
That most splendid experience
A ball leveraged through mid-off
Onto the seated terrace
Or clouted, over mid-on, into the river
But here the boundaries are land
Land and more land
To all four corners
It feels cold outside
I will wait for the sun
To warm things up
Yes, when the blue sky
Replaces the grey
Then I will venture out
Even if springtime
Is not yet fully with us
I was distracted
Distraction for myself
First with Gratefulness
Then with the journal
I was confused
Confusion for myself
First with the news
Then with doubts about capitalism
The pleasure
Of a laying down
Half-sleeping
Meditation
On the cusp of waking
From a gentle
Dualistic lover’s dream
To be in the midst
Of nothing
With nothing on one’s mind
To be among nowhere
With nowhere
Being thought about
No roads
Nor railways
Or rivers
No aeroplanes
Nor airborne skaters
Or secrets flying by
The serenity
Of laying
In the half-being
Of a being totally at one
Slowly
The bright sunlight’s reflection
Pitches off of the yard wall
Slowly
The coffee suggests
Black as the images on the screen
And so, from far away
The goalkeeper smiles
Along with his younger brother
And I for one do wish
That in so being
Their love is with you
