3 Thoughts


Save me a tune when the light

 Is gone

Make my mind sweet with

That thick sound,

A compliment, well sent,

Swelling up from the tender

Root of a heart entwined

With mine

In knots, the wynd and bind,

Again and again.

Cut me a rope I can use

To climb down, down to

A place where I can sit

And eat lunch in peace, thoughtful

For the morning, eager for the

Afternoon, but happy on the bench, whatever’s in

The box.

Still, sitting by his side,

The sage who knew all

And spoke it freely

With tea and rich tea,

One leg here, the other

In Italy, 1945.

 (23rd August 2009)