05 November 2017


do not forget to pause and let the light
green under canopy of ancient trees
keep us all unexpected at our ease
(since none of our predicament is slight)
rather than poised for fearful urgent flight
our bodies trembling with more than the breeze
as the wise voices say that on our knees
is the one posture to await the night
there is no coming back to a safe place
when once you’ve risen through the turbulence
to reach the one true thing you must recall
no matter the incitement or disgrace
the angry shouts that gradually lose sense

in the bright moment between spring and fall

12 August 2017

On a summer Saturday

The white gaulin's uninterrupted flight
from past the woods, then down towards the stream,
not easy caught. A solitary beam
of afternoon sun carries my delight
that world and season are, at last, turned right,
while silver fountain bears an honest gleam
as heated breezes purify the stream.
No one is worried by the coming night.
So, in the music, this is where we rest
while in the harder places war is fought
over the meanings of important things.
I will not fuss about a noisome pest
nor give its bird-brained maundering a thought.
Instead, I'll sit a while, then go to eat.
The morrow is for worry. Now life's sweet.