Hilltop to Hilltop

looking across a timescape
we see into a distant past

where great lumbering
creatures walked a beach


after they died (huge
piles of rotting meat)

bones were revealed
(sand washed in)
covered deep for eons

minerals leached in
replacing calcium
(bones became stone)

covering sand became stone 
(long millions of years)
and buried deep the bones

volcanoes erupted
spewing ash which became
thick silent layers

ice ages came and went
continents drifted while
land rose and subsided


looking across a timescape
we see into a distant past



Dials and Bells

Dials and Bells

looking up skywards
   we can't fail to see

      dials and bells
      on a tower face


   marking time
sounding alarms

   as our lives tick by
chimes ringing out


      we can yell
   we can scream
whisper or shout

dials mark time
   in a visual way


      but now we find
   we may not know
   or even understand


      what time is
or how it flows


   what really matters 
with the time we have
      is how we grow
and what we grow into

Amphorae

wine bottles
      seem so small

   after you have 
seen amphorae.


civilization is such 
      a big surprise.

all it takes to tame
   troupes of
frantic monkeys 

is sufficient alcohol.


   amphorae do look 
interesting in a way.

cool shapes.

(comforting somehow)

frantic monkeys do
      love their comfort.


fear the pandemic,
   it can damage 
our feeble brains.

      already we are
woefully underpowered.

save my cpu!

Spring by the Lake

the water's cold
   although the 
      ice is gone.

   we know icy water 
from almost before 
      we were young .

   stick your toes
in springtime's 
      chilly water. 

your toes went in
      to the ankle;
you know cold water
for long as you live.


      deep chill, 
      down deep
to where light fades

into featureless
      blurry shadow

      diffuse light
seems to come
from every place.


interesting days,
      we still survive:

      icy weather,
   cold spring water
chills our toddler toes.

Share the Road

tiny trucks deliver
to tiny shops,

as if there was
room on roads.


pedestrians
learn quickly.

out of the way!


(no suitable
translation
springs to mind.)

everyone moves
aside, quickly.

tiny trucks
go slowly by.


white-painted 
roads in a 
beautiful place.

tiny trucks leave
no dirty tracks
on the streets.


shops sell a few
amazing things:
exquisite art,

a bowl: carved
of ancient olive,
grown thousands
of years ago.

cool shade is
an under-rated
blessing.

just stay cool!

Ruins and Palms

ruins and palms
have little value
      in my daily life.

   in my memories 
they are magical.


stories of ruins,
      of the things
   that happened 
there and there,

well I know that 
      i ought to say:

   something's 
      very special 
   about the stories 
i don't want to hear.

like the palms,
   they are not
related to my
  own stories,

or my life.

   they have a very
different mesage,
      maybe, while i
might have none.

my own stories or my life

nothing important,
because i must be
about as important
   as an ant in a hill.

   would i like to be
more important?

      what kind of 
   responsibility
comes with that?


maybe to be an ant 
      is enough.

   and what about
   the palm and its
      importance?

   and the wall?

Valentine’s Day

   a special day, for 
celebrating love...
but this far north,
it's icy cold outside.

   february is 
about time 
   to be tired 
      of winter

      we wait 
   impatiently
for springtime.

      ice and snow
becomes tiresome.
   walking on ice
   is dangerous.

      we want our
   freedom back,
to follow our toes,
wherever they
      want to go.

valentine's day

   a special day, for 
   celebrating love...
but this far north,
it's icy cold outside.




Unless the Centre

Unless the Centre

unless the centre
      holds, there is
   no way to win.

   so beautiful
when she was
      just a girl.

      the centre
   of her world,
he had clay feet.

   she had a friend
just up the street,
   when they were
young, their lives
      were sweet.

but time went on,
they grew apart,
      and then she
   gave away
her heart.

and found a boy
she liked so well, 
      she did not
think what games
   he played.

unless the centre
   holds, there is
   no way to win.

      so beautiful
when she was
   just a girl.

      the centre
   of her world,
he had clay feet.

A Little Rain

   a little rain
      has never
hurt me much.

   always I've
      dried out
and carried on.

      i am not safe
from drowning,
   but i have not
   done that yet.

      history may
guide us if we're 
   wise enough.

we know it isn't a 
      perfect guide,
but it can help
   save us from
      repeating 
serious errors .

   rain washes
the windows,
   as i look out
this cold, damp
      autumn day.

   a little rain
      has never
hurt me much.