My monthly post is inevitably topical.
Falling Apart
In the garden
daffodils wilt; blossom falls.
Some may see each day
endlessly repeating
like a wind-up toy, while
what may seem hum drum,
the hum of the fridge,
a ticking clock,
the science fiction silence outside,
is the world renewing itself
in each dying moment. . .
And we too, while honouring
the bitter taste
of each remembered mistake
can fall apart again and again.
*
Ageing
Seventy three years
cultivating karma
yet there is no self in each breath
*
Surprised By Joy
Sitting alone
sudden birdsong
extinguishes dreams.
All Things Creative 