The Struggle to Understand

To raise and flatten mountains

To fill and dry up seas

To choose when each leaf lifts

On a softly stirring breeze

 

To mark the fleeting eons

Yet dictate a cell’s decay

To hold the world in orbit

Spinning to pass the day

 

Power wrought by nature

No conscience or regrets

Entropy increases

Obeying laws it sets

 

Is this universal

Across worlds we cannot see?

Begs another question

How can all this be?

Night Watchman

Entrances all locked and fast

Bolts checked around the back

Windows secured to the last

Holding, at bay, attack

 

Family safely stowed abed

Enjoying well-earned sleep

Though heavy hangs the weary head

The watch still his to keep

 

Guttering lamp gives meagre light

Cold gnaws and gathers round

Corner shadows hold close the night

Time passing without a sound

 

A few more rounds; he might then rest

Wolf kept safely from the door

Dawn’s rays reveal its sad bequest

His burden he’ll carry no more

One Day

One day I will be gone.

That is not a day I fear,

nor one I want others to feel sorrow or regret.

If, on that day, you think of me, do not regard the how or why;

but note, if you will, the when

Remember, if you can, any smiles and laughter,

not frowns and sadness

Mark any things done passing well;

not the failures

Those were my burden, one I no longer bear

Do not pick up any part of that; let it die with me.

Knowing you, in some measure,

you will have been a part of my life, and I am grateful for that.

Loving you, know that you made my life all the better to live,

and I love you the more for it, for all eternity

Go forward, then, positively;

live your own life as well as you can

Be happy and try to share that with others.

Warmth

I’ve reached that point, where all that matters

Is a warm and sunny day

Too often does cold, take bitter hold

And gnaw at my bones like decay

 

When the sun shines, there is some release

From the prison that is my home

I then struggle out, without a clout

With freedom, at last, to roam

 

On winter days, so short and cold

The four walls close in as a vice

Listening aghast, to the weather forecast

Promising snow and ice

 

Bed is sanctuary, where shivers subside

Though my nose asks for cover too

Like Oates to Scott, I know I’m facing my lot

When I briefly pop out to the loo

 

If this land goes to hell, in the proverbial handcart

For the young, I’d feel sorrow in large measure

It isn’t all sad; there’ll be one thing not bad

The heat I’ll enjoy with great pleasure