The midday sun

 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. 

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Corbawn Drive

  Corbawn Drive Corbawn Drive you are my darling In the embrace of leafy Shankill Close to the sea and close to the woods That lead to the parks and the trees.  For ten years now we have known you And travelled your paths Strolled in seasons of joy Walked in seasons of sorrow.  As soft and mild as a baby’s breath Welcoming the stranger Safe haven for old neighbors Unwilling to leave this parish. Parents with children cycling bikes On roads bereft of traffic The first to arrive in the seventies Now silver haired cutting grass.  Time stands still for most of the year Out of harms way, under the sun Birds calling out from fifty year old trees Framing the blue sky above.  The news came through we were hoping and fearing The sale’s going ahead six weeks from today Six weeks to take leave of old friends and dear neighbors Look to the future in a modern new build.  Life is a road that veers left and then right Rarely bears straight despite our best might No regret...
Read more

Their ashen faces

  Their ashen faces Their ashen faces in the waiting rooms This injured army of the ill As they make their weary way On their path to Calvary.  Once entered, no healthy exit now, For patients eking out a few months more A constant round to doctors rooms Taking tickets to be seen again  A life of pills and potions Of procedures big and small Trudging on a treadmill slowly Tired eyes turned downwards only.  Grey lives lived in the shadows Quietly spent in obedient queues A world of bandages and care Walkers, strollers and wheelchairs.  Loyal wives guide their spouses Negotiate the complex system Take note of dates of different doctors File new prescriptions in old handbags.  He left the tent in blizzard snow Captain Oates he had to know He would never see the tent again He had no wife to guide him home. 
Read more

The Train

  The Train   The train of life, it trundles on Not just for some but for everyone Some get off and some get on A few too early and a few too late.  Every journey has a finish At times delayed and sometimes late But nothing surer on this passage There is an end to every trip.  Lean right back, enjoy the journey Long or short accept the ride Look out the window, see the fields Amazing colors in the sky.  You’ll meet some people in the carriage Appearing different but all the same Gentle pilgrims on the journey The traveled track feels longer than ahead.  Some will hope to travel better Up with folks in posh first class Some are happy for the gift Aware we all arrive the same.  Some are anxious for the finish Unsure of how the journey ends Some just welcome every station Enjoy each moment as it lands. There is a ticket checker to be sure But no one has to leave the train  Before their time, before their station  Unless ill fortune intervene....
Read more