Saturday 24 December 2016

Pause

Surrender your grasp, whatever your cause,
on the future and past, for the sake of a pause.
We've closed the gates, the keys are hung up,
there's no early or late, but there's more than enough.
There's a meaning, a meeting, a moreness, a mist
on streaming and reading that already exists.
The latch is on, the curtains are drawn,
and the same old songs herald the dawn.
"...not even a mouse..." echoes around,
if we had hatches on our house they'd be battened down.
The fire's blazing, the washing is dry,
the children are gazing for clues in the sky.
There's a feeling, a freeing, a focus, a fizz
on dreaming and healing and those that we miss.
Whether you are inclined or firmly against,
there's finally time to finally rest.
This moment's the truth, whatever you know,
we've nothing to do and nowhere to go.
It's the privilege of biding shrouded in peace,
while others are stifled by siege without cease.
There's a greening, a greeting, a gallop, a gliss
on scheming and reaching the ultimate pitch.
The time will progress, wherever you are,
and I mean to spend it counting my stars.
For the sake of a pause, on the future and past,
whatever your cause, surrender your grasp.

Thursday 1 December 2016

December

January is very strong,
yet even it cannot last long.

The season's weather turns from black,
a white endeavour sees Winter pass.

February, March and April,
come to stay but aren't able.

The season's weather turns from white,
a flash of yellow means Spring has died.

May, June and then July,
determined but must still decline.

The season's weather turns from yellow,
the browns together let Summer go.

August, September and October,
settle in and then they're over.

The season's weather turns from browns,
the blackness severs Autumn's bounds.

The last few sparks fleet with November
and, on the mark, it is December.

Each season born and then departed,
as quickly gone as it was started.
It's all pretend, a thin veneer,
it starts again, another year.