Sun streams

sharing its warmth.

Breeze takes the edge off.

Weeping cherry

is in full bloom

attracting the attention

from lots of bees.

Simple balm for my soul

The idea of being outside:

warm day, blue skies,

seems very attractive.

The reality of being outside

which includes gale-force winds

sucks the fun out of the idea.

It feels like a kind of

metaphor

for ‘where we are’

with the pandemic.

Trying to do the right thing

but there is a big gap

between idea and reality.

Feeling

caught.

But allowing myself

to stay

‘there’

doesn’t help me.

So I look out, up and around –

and that helps.

Privileged,

I visit Maureen in hospital

a shell

of what she was;

thin,

frail.

Yet, who she is:

a gentle, loving person

is still present.

Her husband and children echo,

lovingly keeping watch.

Testimony to love

fostered over decades.

Our conversation

was filled with truth and love,

grace and blessing.

This was no time

for empty or idle chatter.

My tears were shed

at a friend’s imminent passing,

all-too-soon.

Grief does not only come at the end.

Time is about perception.

It speeds past.

It drags.

The moments we want

to hold on to

slip through our fingers –

so they must be savoured.

What about lockdown?

So much seems to happen

in a day

and yet it is also

nothing.

Marking time?

The magpie warbling at 1am

also seems out of sync.

Best to do what you can

to relish and delight

in the little things

so that you can glimpse

their true worth,

gazing with the loving eyes

of the creator.

Seagull soars through the air

incongruously

amidst city buildings.

The geometry is wrong:

natural grace

amidst human control.

The seagull captivates me

because of its ‘outofplaceness’,

reminding me of a greater order.

Another glimpse into that order:

watching the wind

whipping the tree

making it look mobile,

almost pulsating.

‘It’s only air’,

yet so vital in the grand scheme.

Open my eyes

Open my heart

Open my mind

and truly see

God’s handiwork

everywhere

Saturday afternoon,

mid-winter, during lockdown.

It is easy

to feel ‘stuck’,

but I try

to pay attention

to the details.

As I stand on the back porch

the sun actually

has some warmth.

The music I’m listening to

energises and buoys me.

Taking notice

of the everyday beauty

in the sea

in the sky

in the flowers

in the people

around me.

Such is wholeness

and peace.

Sunshine streams down

Generous and unexpected 

On this winter’s day. 

Grace, too,

As I wrestle

With my brother’s passing. 

This person

Who has been

A constant in my life.

Constant too

has been his pain

Due to cancer.

Sad at his passing,

But I’m also relieved. 

A man of contradictions. 

Who isn’t?

Most of my adult life

I saw the positive  

As he cared for others

Whether as a grandfather

Doling out ‘doughnuts and pink milk’

As a solicitor for those in need

Or a football club stalwart.

His razor sharp intelligence

Led to insightful

And occasionally acerbic comments

As well as many smiles from me

As he named a truth.

Living in Melbourne for 40 years

Has meant most of our relationship

Has been by phone.

Near the end I sent him a message

That included:

‘I am not with you but I am with you.’

In my memories and my heart,

I pray that the converse

Is also true.

I can feel

their goodness

I am overcome

being a witness

to care for others

to those who build connection

those who encourage

those who support.

These words

seem an empty vessel

to carry the full import

not just of my emotion

but of my senses.

This goodness captures me

buoys me

despite more COVID news

This human goodness

glows

shining its light

for those with eyes to see,

lighting a path to follow.

Older man

wanders up and down

the aisle

of the train carriages

clutching a shopping bag

as clouds tinged with pinks

herald another day.

Back and forth

Forth and back for 15 minutes.

His seeming dis-ease

unsettling me.

I have no answers

only questions:

Is he in pain?

What is his truth?

My fellow passengers and I

disgorge from the train

in the city,

leaving him,

as I try to follow my truth.

Threads bind us together.

Some treasure them,

others feel caught.

Am I bound or caught?

My answer may depend

upon my mood

or how I see a relationship.

Each thread

is both strong

and breakable

depending upon my focus.

Invisible, flexible

both real and ethereal.

Such threads

bring depth and enrichment.

Make life worth living.

Some threads appear

magically.

Will I tend it?

Ignore it?

Hope it goes away?

Or will I embrace

my threads?

My life?