arriving at work early

what tales they told we have not ever heard
the silent fowl that in the mornings fly
across the grass avoiding heights of sky
each one a worm-seeking hungry early bird
not any noise not even a chirrup slurred
these creatures flit past the observing eye
at least they're honest their actions don't lie
but what we want is a confirming word
in quiet morning dark while many sleep
life seeks out life in order just to feed
a story's here one that's been often told
and yet we know a fact that will not keep
what drives these beings isn't simple need
and their desire can't just be bought or sold

sitting here alone

herewith we name all fears and see them die
our breaths are deep in the fresh morning air
few clouds now pass across the bluing sky

not far from here the towers rise up high
not foggy now we see them all quite clear
herewith we name all fears and see them die

what's needed most we cannot simply buy
and yet we will not find the price too dear
few clouds now pass across the bluing sky

nowhere do our conclusions seem more sly
than in this place where we confront our care
herewith we name all fears and see them die

our friends and colleagues now we do not spy
all have been captured by the morning's snare
few clouds now pass across the bluing sky

and yet we're frightened that our hopes will lie
we're still uncertain of the growing year
herewith we name all fears and see them die
few clouds now pass across the bluing sky

distant noises

we hear the sirens punctuate the dawn
the thoughts that grab us are not very kind
dead bodies lying on the street or lawn

it would take someone with an empty mind
to think that peace and order are secure
as humans we're all caught in the same bind

we want to think our motives are all pure
but what we do does not assure at all
each year the decent ones get ever fewer

we wonder who will cry or weep or bawl
nowhere to hide as morning comes on fast
someone will be set up to take the fall

that's how it's been on every morning past
there's someone who will get the final bill
as for their fate the die is always cast

there isn't much here that can cheer or thrill
before hard facts we cannot hesitate
we act by other's hope or whim or will

our thoughts are bound to organise too late
there's never time to think anything through
we blame the actions of an unkind fate

what we behold is hidden from plain view
by those whose answers would not satisfy
we're held in place by some impressive glue

trapped by our thoughts into the easy lie
that nothing matters no one is our friend
and let the funeral cortège pass us by

alone we contemplate the sort of end
that comes in silent undeclared small wars
but then our minds will find another trend

meanwhile the day has banished all the stars

complete in fragmentation

this divine wind that calms each vagrant dream
yet cannot cool down my overheating brain
i wipe my sweating brow and in the mental strain
confuse what is from what might merely seem
to have real weight like a freshly-bought ream
of printer paper now today we're promised rain
with every working thought nothing comes plain
all cerebration flows through a narrow stream
this is a winter day i know yet it is far too warm
the mind reels under all such contradictions
here i'm alone that's fact but i hear many voices
the need is here that's given for a sufficient form
to overcome the limits of truths and fictions
but still this day we have too many choices

we have the power

slow tempo of the morning little measure
of what will happen shortly not a chance
that what we find will really be a treasure

no choices come upon us in advance
we contemplate in fine no magic forces
across the fields no phantom ponies prance

objects of our desire have their own courses
we do not hold them unless they need to be
held in restraint like apollo's golden horses

from no kindness does any need to flee
in shape and power the moment passes
none that we've known or wish ever to see

we see the lions plain without our glasses
they stalk the plain but do not find their prey
around us move unknowing silent masses

those who are frightened of the open day
giving no voice to what they most desire
but all are yearning to find the proper way

to unleash all the tempest and the fire
that we keep hidden sulking in our cage
we've never had the half we could acquire

and that will keep us in a thorough rage
mistaking our compliance for our pain
these matters come out clearly on the page

each of us tainted by the human stain
endures the sting of love or hope or night
not knowing that what we can see plain

comes from our own unmistaking light
jewel that forms when we the moment shatter
each facet that we note is burnished bright

the glow and glory over all we scatter
not for us such valued things to hoard
all that is true will come one day to matter

through every river we shall find a ford
this is the natural and the human art
to push our way through heavy wall and board

and snuggle firmly in the happy heart

evening rain

rainwater glistening on the dark tarmac
tells us that winter once again is warm
the temperature is back above the norm
and yet we wait for the season to attack
in this southland we do not feel the lack
of cold and snow a matter of bad form
we'll get the ice again with the next storm
and then wish we could give her the sack
send winter back for thorough reformation
demand instead a better season's feel
not one where rival climes compete
but that is not our place or proper station
from such power the human mind must reel
instead we move ahead on normal feet