BALM
I shall cool my mind
Upon the low golden moon
I shall drain my habitual sorrow
Letting it flow earthwards
And rest.
Rounded quietness
The clear roof
Of a star-filled night.
Everything is as it is.
Everything is moving
Towards
A dancing of its own nature.
Sleep and dream and waking,
The blink of day and night-
Vibrations on the rim of
Creation’s bowl.
The rippled liquid,
Concentric pools,
An eye-blink.
Breath from the wing
Of a passing owl.
Polish the mirror,
Breath and sleep.
Frost at dawn
And the new lamb’s
Thin cry.
In the dead elm
Two magpies
Are building a nest,
Ivy clad, bejewelled.
As long as it can
Life will fill
All voids,
Dancing heedless
Over the precipice
Of time,
Disregarding limits,
Floating
As if it were
A garland, a light,
Set adrift
As a blessing
As an asking
Upon one great river
Sedate, curving slow,
Seawards.
simonhlilly 