Last impressions

  The faraway hills Always over the faraway hills Never the valley below  Always the person over your shoulder Never the person in front.  Always a time in the future Never the here and now Always o’er yonder and  later Fleeing the real chasing the fleeting.  Here we sit now some sixty years older With nothing to show but froth Bubbles that burst on needles of time A cautious life lived in the shadows.  To be on the safe side the talents were buried Nothing was risked and nothing was gained What might have beens fill up the night Our cup overflows with what ifs.   Come from the stars, returned to the stars Nothing to show, fields that lie fallow.   Life is a struggle, a messy old tale That cannot be stored in fine porcelain. 

  The midday sun The midday sun has cleared the gable Another day in late October But come next week it will hide And not return til April.  This season of the slanting sun With shadows deep and long  Grateful for the autumn heat Relaxing in my sunhouse seat.  The garden lies in shadows deep  Ahead of its long winter sleep Grateful to have four seasons  What is seldom is warmly greeted.  Snoozing, feeling no guilt or grief  Removed from news cycles by sleep The world will carry right on As the sun slithers down each noon.  Grateful for the scraps The sun hands out late autumn  Grateful for the Robin  A fast friend for all seasons.  The Robin sings the midday hymns He sings the Sext divinely  With constant chirps and cheeps He rinses ears sublimely.  Glory to the autumn songster  Singing notes that rise much higher Glory to the West wind blowing  Together make    the celestial choir. 

  Dun Laoghaire October '24 Dun Laoghaire harbor is calm The day that followed the storm That brought some old trees down That had lasted over a century.  All is forgotten, forgiven  Now the sun is reflecting on water And walkers released from their homes Walk the West Pier with abandon.  Nothing is forever in Ireland Everything changes each day Nothing is permanent nothing will stay Nothing is clear everything grey.  The train chunters on to the station  Trundling from town with its workers Happy to carry the harried commuters Away from a city of troubles.   Escaped for the day and contented To drink in the freedom and ozone Spoiled by the fates to live near the gates Of heaven on earth called Dun Laoghaire.