Regards

Turn back and regard, that which has passed.
A time when the mind could be with the future yet, indignant,
it stays reliving a life apart.

The muslin‑haze of a doubt redundant is swept aside
to draw a sight unwavered,
and the heart unfurls with the rising sun
of Great Summer past, present, and still to come.

The evening beams as a journey continues;
the blue sky’d hope a foil to the decay that is the bequest of profit.
The sight of the graves beckons hope rather than grief,
chill stones as testament to the pilgrim’s faith,
rites on a journey never‑ending.

The cleansing of rainsting, a purge to shackled remembrance,
the lacklustre postures of a character too tempered.
The chapel light, a beacon in the New Town numbness
a single‑cell legacy of a, once encompassing, certainty.

 

Company

Acorn drops
Join leaf loss
Oaken hosts
Patter
Patterns
Sounding
Seeming
Sometimes teeming
To ground scatter
Grounded


Lydia on leaves
Boldly
Bounding
On boles and
Trunks
And trees
Sentry the scene
For comfy companions