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

The Highest Court

A jury of my peers sits in silence.

“I put plastic into landfill,”
I tell them.
“I turned the heating up.”

The jury sits in silence.

“I felt anger again,”
I tell them.
“I cried selfish tears.”

The jury sits in silence.

“I wanted convenience,”
I tell them.
“I desired ease and attention.”

The jury sits in silence.

“I need two coats,”
I tell them.
“I can’t leave my family.”

The jury sits in silence.

“I hadn’t the energy to help,”
I tell them.
“I haven’t enough money to give.”

The jury sits in silence.

“I can’t do it!”
I yell at them.
“You’re asking too much!”

The judge sits in silence.

Postcards

smiling in the street
we share music on purpose
solar panels shine
near gardens adorned by veg
a tram rattles on her way

every way seems blocked
huge stones needing
many hands to life

New Eden

a tiny square
glowing and
unbounded

where I touch
all shapes of
other minds

linking up
through the void
to share fruit

Leaf Life

and then an expectant green leaf uncurled
and then a bronzed summer leaf danced
and then a joyously bright leaf leapt
and then a warm brown leaf rotted
and then a hungry root found

What’s at the centre?

The cherry on the top bang in the middle;
wicks running central to the candle’s core;
the in-breath, the out-breath, noticed as it flows;
heartwood which rots yet leaves a living tree;
the single leg of a tapping table;
a paperback’s glossy picture pages;
clusters of stamens awaiting the bees;
a farm near Fox’s Drayton-in-the-Clay;
the magnetic coils of earth’s molten rock;
and in silence, the small still voice of God.

Heaven and Hell

void
up
above
and only
what we can find here
the handful of wonders which are
just hanging around this small world
some atoms with gaps
and we find
beneath
a
void

The time to act is now

“With joy, our Yearly Meeting has made a commitment to becoming a low carbon sustainable community. The time to act is now.”
epistle of Britain Yearly Meeting 2011

–

Is it I, Lord?
You do not call me
in the night
but I hear You
in the trees, the rain, the sky.

I call you, yes,
to choose
and then to act
to leave milk and meat
to wash up rubbish
to squint at little numbers on the bottoms of plastic bottles
to wear warm baggy jumpers
and a hat.

I hear You call for more, my Lady,
I hear You weep
and shine with joy
on solar panels,
cyclists, gardeners,
crowds I cannot join.

No matter.
You have chosen,
and you act.
I call others to these other acts
and you are called
to more than just this:
to live as well as to recycle
to listen in your funny hat
to laugh while you walk.
The call may change.
Live. Listen. Laugh.