Saturday, 1 September 2012


Coffee, black as a final No
vibrant potential cries out – go!

Milk, mysterious as falling snow,
tipped and turning, says – hello!

Up to my mouth, a steaming brew;
lippy little liquid  - suck, suck, thank you!

Turning away, I look at the sky;
old kitchen table, doorway, goodbye!

Lively as a hare, I plant three trees:
omelet, a little plate, yes, yes, please.

Terrible, the pathway from kitchen to lake;
fall down a pothole, my mistake!

Down on my knees, I clean up the mess,
cross another river with a great big Yes!


  1. On our way to the ground without a sound-
    or with a sound, a cry, a plea,
    Either way the end result,
    we end up giving thanks
    upon our knees.

    Peace and thanks for the poem. Joseph