A new chapter

  The low January sun The low January sun comes in the window Brightening up the sitting room That yearns for light and heat Above the road that froze last night.  Cars with windscreens icy still  In cold dark valleys between the houses  Midday comes and goes unnoticed In north facing yards and gardens.  But south facing windows drink in The winter sunshine with abandon That strikes sitting room chairs And leaves long shadows on the floor.  Grateful for this unexpected blessing The old man sits in profile, contented That winters cloak is slightly parted Like a skirt revealing quiet beauty.  Such tiny mercies welcome all the more  In the wee days of the northern year Grateful for graces freely given  To good and bad, to rich and poor. 

  How to mourn? How to mourn a Friend now dead When God himself no longer lives No kindly priestly patter can console Now that we’ve buried old beliefs? The skylight in the roof is frozen over No sunlight can brighten up the room Where he took his breath last time As we held ours in deep mid winter.  No easy words fall from our lips No prayers can fill what we miss We will keep the memories in our heart The joy they bring will never part.  On a frozen morn in Temple Hill A room of Quakers sitting still At a January service mourning  A Friend whose faith gives hope To those who have lost belief In salvation for this dear earth For this life or the next Whatever that might bring.  All that remains - a cold coffin The anguish of family and friends  The tiny glimmer in the corner  Of Hope against all the odds. 

  The kindest thing The kindest thing might be   If we all passed in our sleep One dark night and left a world Happy, grateful, undisturbed.  The best result for man and beast No chemical or nuclear holocaust No years of languishing beneath A poisoned and a bloody sky.  Nature will grow back, repair The damage done last century And with a thousand years Return the pristine beauty.  The earth will turn and spin Will make its annual journey Round the golden sun which in turn Ploughs further into space.  There will be Greek and Roman ruins Homage to a civilization long before We had the tools to conquer To contaminate and destroy.  There will be dogs and cats  Bears and deers in forests Monkeys, elephants and lions Where they lived before.  Gone the music and the laughter We could not find ten just men And so we sealed our fate One quiet night in September.  God, it seems, doesn’t get it right All the time and yet he came so close On t...

  We are but small corks We are but small corks bobbing on the sea At this time of our lives  Grateful to have sailed so far and wide No longer force to change the world.  The silver baton has been passed on Salvation of the world now another’s job Our time to turn the sea has passed As we float out on the ebbing tide.  We have fought and cursed and strived Now is the time for younger hands To take our place and guide the plough Towards the stars they follow, not ours.  A blessing to be free in these last days Time to focus on the blessings that are free Work through the bucket list with zeal Ignore the sapping news we best avoid.  Let fall the burden from our shoulders  Like Sisyphus we’ve hauled this boulder The world will travel safely on without us Our spirit sails beyond it to the stars.  Meanwhile there is dance and music There is friendship and long laughter Local miracles to chase and marvel We'll plough right on without surrender. There's...

  Light bleeds out Light bleeds out of a January sky Colors have been robbed and rinsed.  All that remains are faint hues Reminders of a day that’s come and gone.  The hungry evening drains and leaves The gentlest blue broken only by white clouds That steal departing rays and dark branches Stretching towards heaven and the morrow.  The day has lengthened by a minute  And promised more if we are patient.  Lights appear in handsome houses Where Christmas trees are taken down.  We feel no shame in staying in In lighting fires and keeping close This is a time to come down a gear To read good books and hibernate.  The night crept up on us and covered With a seamless cloak the sleepy town  Floating in a sea of black with dreams Of summer days and short sleeves.  Twenty twenty four has come  Without invitation or permission  Cheques once announced transition From one year to another.  We know full well where twelve months  H...

  Through the rain Through the rain splattered attic window The town looms ghostly in the early gloom A quiet Sunday like all others With sea gulls calling o’er the empty town.  The morning’s mine in these wee hours  Young altar servers still lie in bed Harvesting sleep’s last few minutes Before the call to prayer is heard.  On future days we’ll embrace these hours When nothing happened and all was grey And life stood still on a damp Sunday Fresh morning coffee tasted real.  The sky is brightening in the East The daily show we take for granted Clouds and sky behind St. Michael’s Rising high above Dun Leary.  I’ll give the news a little miss Allow my soul to filter peace  Remember those who need my prayers Far and near, from west to east. Slippered feet upon the wooden floor Enough for me who needs no more Than a welcome from our faithful dog Whose tail reveals the joy of life.