There once was a Quaker from Leeds

There once was a Quaker from Leeds,
Who went around handing out seeds.
She said, “They may grow,
and I’ll never know,
but at least I’ll be judged by my deeds.”

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Janus at Durham Cathedral

Within walls of woven stone
the work of fire and water
winds along a worn-down way
weary but still worshipping.

Green men gaze at gaping faces
giving clarity by cloister games
and growing fresh groves of Gaia’s friends:
Greenpeace, Green Party, green prayer.

Boating Memories

clicking, clacking halyards
warm days on the Thames
cold days on the Fal
splashing, spraying sea swell
rolling up the Carrick Roads
fading out through London
and under ocean, rain and river
the water cycle’s ancient silence

Times and Seasons

In that great, dark hall
machines thump all around
the wefts fly through the warps
as one knitter casts on
another can cast off
from sheep to yarn to quilt
the weavers watch them wear
all seasons flow and change
in that great dark hall.

On Being Blessed by the Relics of Shakyamuni

I bow and kneel
legs trembling as the relics
are held over me.

in the basement I
find the fossils, ancestors,
touch the earth to them.

my weak soul’s aching
for another expands to
all those who suffer.

Autumn 2010

new terms, lectures, lives;
colours and courses aflame
while I, watching, fall.

Postcard from the Recession

We’re finding it quite dear
and there’s little to do but
we wish you were here.

When mountain fog draws near
the pub appeals but
we’re finding it quite dear.

Like crabs caught in a weir
we’d love to go home but
we’re wishing you were here.

We’re short of fishing gear –
local shops provide but
we’re finding it quite dear.

The sea’s cold, the cliffs sheer
the bird’s nest empty but
we’re wishing you were here.

We might not come next year
it’s a holiday but
we’re finding it quite dear
and wishing you were here.