The Green Monk

My familiar and me

having early morning tea.

We are the shadows

left over from the night.

Stretched across the garden

by the first sunlight.

Ripples

A stone falling from the cliffs alongside the river

causes ripples that fan out and make the water shiver.

As each wave connects with the shore

it disappears, and things are

as they were before.

Everything is impermanent.

Evening Light

Across the rooftops the evening light

chases clouds towards the night

and blackbirds call families home.

The Kite

We have let go of the paper kite
and watch as the winds
toss it about and out of sight.
So trust returns
and once more the fires burn.
Sight restored.
The threads of silk
hold all still.

The Hare

There's a hare in the Hartwood
and the silver moon
shines soft through the window
and into the room.
She is out on the moors
running deep in the grass.
The old owl watching, flying fast.
When morning comes calling
she'll wake, yawning
and smile.
Oh, will she smile.

A Gentle Place

The sands scrunch under my bare toes
and the sea water licks my ankles
wet, cool and salty.
The sounds of the gulls fill my ears
and the wind my heart.
Perhaps some more gentle place
where the sun plays
and the wind blows
and the trees and grasses conspire
to fill the empty space
left when the rain washed away
every trace
every everything
that I tried to hold...................