River runs free river runs free
along the rocky ridge and down
towards the sea
river runs free river runs free
like the wind and birds
and you and me.
In the corner of the room
The fire flickers fiercely:
Flames form fingers
That rise and fade
Faster than thoughts –
The shapes they make
Cast faces in my mind,
Like sudden memories of long lost friends.
As night’s darkness falls back
Like a wave returning to the sea
The daylight begins to grow,
Slowly creeping over the world.
Timetravel: you probably think
it’s a lot of fun, but it isn’t.
In fact, to be frank and fair,
It can be a little bit scary.
It’s getting worse,
The fear; it’s getting worse,
Year on year.
I am a scribble
A SCRIBBLE!
I scribble in the morning
I scribble in the daytime
I scribble in the evening
Once upon a time a young farmer and his wife lived with their two children, Beth and Ben, at the edge of a great, dark wood. While the farmer ploughed his field by day, his wife and the two children would often explore the brambles and thickets near their ramshackle cottage, on the look-out for berries and mushrooms to add to the evening’s stew.
River you flow on
Endless and strong.
River with your crown of reeds
Tough and tender in the wind
Slanting like the arrows of a hunter
Bent towards where the open mouth
Swallows the sea.
This morning I pulled a porpoise from the sea:
Without thinking I reached in,
plucked it out
With my small hands
And laid it on the pier.
Pick up the cello,
Place your bow on its strings
And feel as it sings
A sound so full, that’s come
As simply as placing
Finger against thumb.
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