Morning

Darkness cloaks new shadow

until a burgeoning light

turns pastel into ‘Hello’

and birds uplift in flight.

Andrew's Advice

“When fingers tingle, there’s a chance

that two little legs get up and dance

a tango, quickstep, tap away

and wiggle to YMCA.

“‘Cos when I skip, expressing me,

a little spark enflames, gets free,

and dreamers reach an extra mile;

stand more vertical – and smile.

“Cynical’s an easy stance

(static) – no, come on - and dance.

“Two legs, one leg, arms out, balance

on your day – a happenstance.

“Wear a hat - or silly pants

- let it out - Exuberance!”

Child

One day I drew

a picture of myself

- childlike and true -

and put a big circle

round the wee boy

I had craftily created:

a boundary, an area

so mum and dad can’t enter

because they want to change me

from stick man into fat boy

or make me much more handsome

by rubbing out (or hangman).

I used an HB pencil;

it’s a fine line.

Morning

In this half-light, the light is changing slow

- another day of feeling minor fear;

time is up, and so it’s time to go

seeking, finding little things to know

and feel, confabulate, perhaps to hear;

in this half light, the light is changing slow.

Forever probing language, me and you,

so I can be not me - if I could dare;

time is up and now it’s time to go.

I’ll spout my words but who can tell me how

meaning climbs a spiral or a stair?

In this half light, the light is changing slow.

One day, there will be nothing left to do

except to take another breath of air

when time is up and getting time to go.

Humility’s a constant – God I know -

the need to bend a knee is lurking near.

In this half-light, the light is changing slow.

Time is up and so it’s time to go.

Fiery Lord’s Prayer

(from the Aramaic)
God of Spirit, Power

in time, energy,

void and matter, I’ll

make space for your in-

tent. Through me, fulfill

needs - by action - for

a greater purpose

on this bountiful

earth; learning and for-

giving as I go.

Staying true, we will

create fire and ast-

onishment again

and again. Amen.

Days

The alarm goes off – on the dot –

and a stagger to the shower

fires my skin into a heat-map:

another day and a dollar.

The Northern Line is running well

- I’m told – and wide-eyed travelers sniff

on the way to London Bridge, sigh

when train doors sigh. Monks for prayer,

people assemble here

carrying bread, briefcases, stars

on posters smile and sparkle.

A crowd of muffled dervishes

is falling through time like days:

trusting (this day) fire can kindle rainbows; little hearts.

Click, click,click,click

Knock knock! Who’s there?

Clickety click,

behind a door.

I’m glad

that door is closed

between a pecking sound

and me - for sure

that sound is not for me – knock, knock -

because if I crack open

the little door’s edge, I will surely want to change

whatever’s lurking there

and it might, maybe, turn me

into more of what I am

or whatever I could be.