When I weep,
don’t feel you
have to wipe away
these salty tears.
Being formed by
experiences of Life,
they turn to ctystal drops
as they fall from my eyes,
then I can see.
What gifts are these my friends,
what gifts indeed………
This Glorious New Day
Trees, street lamp, bracken
filled the space across the road
till Sunday’s flash winds whipped them up
and threw them down like violated rag dolls….
Now rising sunlight sears through windows,
bakes red roof tiles, warms wildly piqued wasps
and I notice – my heart is thankful
for I have this glorious new day.