easy as sunday morning

beyond the trees are places much the same
as where we sit and smile and the pale light
the day and hour seem to come out just right
there is no reason now for fear or shame
in every heart we see the living flame
our one defence against the long dark night
the only gift we won't ever requite
nothing deserves either our praise or blame
beneath my window red and purple blooms
autumn's bright flowers have their time in the sun
for the bleak winter will too soon arrive
we are not trapped forever in our rooms
and have much more to say before we're done
while joying in the fact that we're alive
 

in the deep bush

 there is no silence in the richest green
life makes its presence known in many ways
in memory we are what we had once been

we climb the rocks our bodies firm and lean
in the deep bush each gully seems a maze
there is no silence in the richest green

on small adventures we are very keen
all in these woods is subject to our gaze
in memory we are what we had once been

the shadowed floor is full of things that mean
but to decypher them takes many days
there is no silence in the richest green

high in the trees a hungry hawk may keen
a tiny movement fearful mouse betrays
in memory we are what we had once been

we were not then built into the machine
having so much to understand and praise
there is no silence in the richest green
in memory we are what we had once been

the end of our exploring

 

a life is measured not in years but deeds
we listen to the music and are glad
what's true has meaning and is not a fad

we tell the cultivars from the hard weeds
each hillside is in autumn colours clad
a life is measured not in years but deeds

we make the step between desires and needs
not one was jealous of what others had
to truest feeling no one needs to add
a life is measured not in years but deeds

willow walk

 

upon these sights we find that we can fall
knowledge of every rut in the rough road
fireflies flashing in their odd secret code
the casuarinas and the drystone wall

we think these mountains though not very tall
upon a rise is our nightly abode
and just below we see the cocks that crowed
the casuarinas and the drystone wall

when each goes back they find the place grown small
and very strange the paths they walked or rode
old time we find has sped instead of slowed
the casuarianas and the drystone wall

and yet not all has faded past recall
each knows the places where the sunset glowed
there was a time when magic set the mode
the casuarinas and the drystone wall

in the spyglass

 

what's to be seen
in normal eyes
is that we're keen
to realize
that what we mean
is just more lies

what we have been
is not so wise
the odds are lean
the worst despise
not worth a bean
are all their lies

nothing between
the truth and spies
what's on the scene
deserves no prize
nothing's left clean
and still one lies

afloat in time

 

empty the soul empty the thinking mind
leave all you wish and all you might desire
there is no goal to which you could aspire

there's nothing here the questing heart to bind
no way to tell your difference from your sire
empty the soul empty the thinking mind

not much is left for trebling hand to find
not all sweet music comes from lute or lyre
not every signal kindles sacred fire
empty the soul empty the thinking mind