winter bare her soul.
medieval trees reach up
for solstice and better days.
sing in silence and simplicity.
sing for those in remembrance .
dark winter bares the soul, those
that believe. sing in silence.
one voice breaks.
carrying the book, gently,
i find that jesus
is off the wall again.
breeze from the doors
blows him and cobwebbed minds
as i write the small book,
on black keys of words.
gentle here this morning,
sun dreams in,
quiet in all the rooms,
and arms held high,
i come into the morning,
with string and sealing wax.
there is a need to pace about, wave the paper,
move the arms. need to pause and counter
act. if this reading thing will work.
maybe moving eliminates the standing still,
precisely that leads to a self concious pose.
the need to read is ready. rehearsals held each day
focus on the oak tree.
alongside reading then, is a little light excercise
plus a method of solidarity.
there is plenty of time to walk from town,
to give an opinion whenever requested.
there is time to talk, and receive gifts. make
time to buy some ready. it has been said before
that these are falling days. look at the wild seeds
and know that as splendid as you are, that
you are one of many.
there is still time.
it was not written early,
there was the bed to change, the washing to dry,
the neighbour’s dog. there were thoughts, yet
they were forgotten in the medly of chores.
it is written later, with coffee, the cat full of
it is a cold and frosty start, lower degrees
the sun is shining, birds fly up.
may be we have not written
anything today , or maybe
just not on paper or type, yet
in our minds with eyes and ears,
the smell of smoke and coldness.
it maybe we played the words
in arrangements, with feeling.
longing to walk, having to work.
the garden changes, and it may
be, that we have written this.
little cardboard houses suck in the rain.
they flee and we should
some of us have kindness, some
have tiny cardboard houses.
she knows, she saw it in the back
outside a helicopter flew by the mountain,
trees came down, she heard the chain saw.
it is raining again.