Cycling with my friend

we’re braving the wind and rain

just glad to be out.

Mind and body need this time

to recover the self again.

If you’ve got no change

at least you can give a smile -

it’s cold for begging.

We don’t carry cash these days,

no kindness in our pockets.

In all my time now

Fortitude has developed

Paths interconnect

What journey sweet interlude

Time to have rest directly.

The pain of others.

Inequity, injustice.

Guilt in my comfort.

In anguish I turn to art

seeking solace and a voice.

Our life in this world

to what can we compare it?

To the setting sail

of a boat at break of day

and leaving behind no wake.

Words are like pebbles.

Sometimes we turn them over

seeking what live thing,

shy, or not yet brought to light

might lie there, hidden beneath.

Her voice was so pure

but her spirit so troubled.

Her grave is so quiet

among so many others -

silent in the granite sea.

(in memory of Sandy Denny)

Rain drums the skylight

too loud for conversation

although not for thought.

Perhaps the future will be

a never-ending deluge.

I was not prepared

for his sudden death although

he was eighty-five.

You get so used to living

you forget it has to stop.