In the Time of Tyrants - by
All that the hand may touch;
/ All that the hand may own;
/ Crumbles beyond time’s clutch
/ Down to oblivion.
/
/ Fear not the boasts which…
hope
Non Semper Imbres - by
Thus Nature sorrows, and forgets her sorrow ;
And Reason soberly approves her way :
Why should we shut oor een against to-morrow
Because our sky was clouded yesterday ?
‘A single quaver…’ - by
A single quaver
of loosening ice
extends across the silence,
revives the air
with the almost forgotten song
of snow melting to water
Baggage - by
This – it is not as heavy it might be.
You step to your small house in the new light.
The possibility of rain… - by
Suddenly I feel myself like an alchemist’s retort
where all this – heat, boredom,
hope and new thoughts –
is melting into something strange, colourful and new.