Friday, 29 January 2010

Winter Song

I reach for a drink,

wet lips on a rim and

eyes look out at an

amateur talent show. There’s snow

on hills and all’s intensely still

when my sons play guitar and start

to sing a new song

about, well, writing a song.

It’s heartily sung,

taking human folly

on a wave of story-sound

and, as I take another mouthful,

my eyes wet. Outside, whiteness

shines in moonlight. I newly realise

- right there in front -

how crucial to defy inevitable

shrinkage and riskstrugglefight

to look out, laugh, expand.

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