What is this Thought which
enters without knocking or
asking permission
that sits on the pillow this night
Sleep looks, asks
why are you here?
no pillow of my own it whispers
it is dark here and
you are company
Sleep sighs but bears no grudge
moves over to the other pillow
leaving Thought to ponder
if it needed a blanket
as the night is cold......
A bird is a bird is a bird
This still morning
reverberates musical notes
of the plain grey Thrush
far away an avian answer
we have lost the way
of translating these liquid notes.
the ring-necked dove calls
I'm doctor who, I'm doctor who
far away its mate calls
Is this true, is this true
limp hangs the washing on the line.......
