Recently the owls have been
silent,
busy,
hungry beaks to feed.
Soon the evening air
will resonate
with their cries.
We all have seasons
of silence,
seasons of song.
Recently the owls have been
silent,
busy,
hungry beaks to feed.
Soon the evening air
will resonate
with their cries.
We all have seasons
of silence,
seasons of song.
Imagine yourself
as an unusual kind of Russian doll.
A little plain on the outside
features worn away
wood chipped
colours faded.
Not really fitting in
with the colours and fashions
tastes and preoccupations of the world.
–
But inside
Oh! it’s like walking into a temple
There is a painted dome, midnight blue
studded with stars
And if you look really closely
you will see the stars are real
twinkling
stretching out into
infinite space.
–
The inside of this doll is bigger
than the outside,
like a tardis.
Time and space mean little here.
Rich fabrics and jewels shimmer on the walls
but also trees, landscapes
an ocean.
Birds flit from tree to tree
and an imaginary cast of thousands
act out plays, ideas, novels
while music flows like wine.
–
At the centre, not a nest of smaller and smaller dolls
but a heart, beating in time with the universe.
Images and ideas flowing in from outside
are turned, shape shifted, into something beautiful
or something terrible,
and this place goes on for ever.
–
Imagine this is you.
Now, take that shimmering inside
Create
Project it into this world
say what needs to be said
Light up our lives.
There were holes in
This one wonderful creative life
It had got a little threadbare
Over the years
In need of darning
Tarnished
A light had dimmed
–
And now, I’m adding threads
Wild snatches of music
Experienced from the inside
Part of a circle of people playing
For themselves and for each other
Sharing tunes and memories
And weaving a richer life
–
The warp and weft of friendships
Reacquainted.
Stories, rhythms, rhymes
And the hills of the Lake District
My hills
And a scattering of colour, paint on canvas,
Feeling the lines and texture flow from the brush in my hand
–
The peace of deep, relaxed movement
Taking time to reconnect
The wake of a canoe across the lake
Adding a silvery thread
–
All combining
All absolutely necessary
Now I know what I’ve been missing
All of this is what I need
Now there are no threadbare patches left
In the tapestry that is
This creative life