Stillness surrounds the blackness of night,
Transfixed and bewitched, as if frozen with fright.
Not even a leaf or stark twig stirs in pity,
Miles from the busying buzz of the city.
Reliant on senses, the dark calls the tune,
Its symphonic movements cast far away, strewn.
The stream trickles melodies, owls hoot their songs,
Silently flapping, the bat beats along.
Who has the job of painting the sky,
Who owns the ladders to reach up so high,
Who knows which colourful palletes delight,
Perpetual artwork designed to excite!
A fracture appears at the breaking of dawn,
A slither of pink cracks; the new day is born.
A blank canvas waits for the master’s sleight hand,
He lovingly tends all the colours he’s planned.
My Happy Place
I’m walking very slowly.
I want this day to last.
Not thinking of tomorrow.
Done thinking of the past.
For here in earthly paradise,
I’ve found my happy place.
To walk these lanes forever,
To savour every pace.
One Step
What does it feel like to step on a cloud,
Treading soft, fluffy pillows without any sound?
Can you perceive how to float up on high,
Fast orbit the moon & fly through the sky?
What sort of magic spell sets you so free,
To dance with the raindrops & capture the breeze?
