Snow

Snow, snow, friend or foe......

I feel that snow has a place in this world

Could I suggest the mountain tops?

Or on a postcard?

No, I don't think so.

For snow, y'see, is a part of our world

It falls to the ground and often takes the place of rain.

It falls to the ground and turns our world into a fantasy

Of monochrome and silence.

It falls to the ground and makes our lives cold and miserable.

It turns our world into slush and mess.

Snow, snow, friend or foe.....

Silence

We have silence in our little world.

Our silence is a profound blessing.

We cherish our silence as it touches our souls.

In our silence we have intermissions of the calls of the wild.

Our birds bring us their joyful songs, the reed-buck her whistled bid for a partner's company.

Our silence has it's intermittent sounds of the country with their messages of hope and peace.

So is our silence!

School

Today we went to the Writers' Group at the library in the village. Good people there. One writer read an excerpt from the book he is writing. In the course of reading he described my boarding school to perfection, of course names were changed, but so clear was his description that I knew that this was the school I went to. Amazing! He was one of my teachers at this school. That was fifty years ago. Time has flown.

Picture

Yesterday evening, driving towards the farmhouse to collect our bucket of milk, I looked at the wonderful picture of the scene ahead of me.  I realised the 'picture' is my world and I am very much a part of the picture.  I am blessed.

Wishes

I wish that my room had a floor;

  I don't so much care for a door;

    But this crawling around

    Without touching the ground

  Is getting to be quite a bore.

Pain

I've cut my thumb, badly.

I've had it stitched together again.
I've endured the pain.
I've waited through the healing process.
I've had the stitches removed.
I've knocked the healing, unbelievably sensitive thumb against every possible object.
I've earned another scar to my old body.
I've learned from the experience?  We'll see!

Time

The knights are dust

Their swords are rust

Their souls are with the saints

I trust

Age

Here I sit

Alone and sixty

Bald and fat and full of sin

Cold the seat

And loud the cistern

As I read the Harpic tin

Home

I am home among my beloved mountains.  
I view them but no longer venture into them as I did when young.
They have been my unwavering haven and guide to my life.
I have returned to my mountains to find my sanctuary.
I am blessed that I have this opportunity to live in my haven.
This is just the way I want things to be for me.