The Wrong Path

are we nearly there yet?

Infinity.

Surely not too far.

what's the time now?

Is it eternity yet?

Surely it'll be then soon

where are we going?

when will we get there?

who is driving

and what is the vehicle?

bed time

time for bed

almost

time to gather thoughts

to put them to bed

time to be grateful

I've had a day

time to wish

for a new one tomorrow

bed time

the time when we disappear

from ourselves

and go to a mysterious space

a strange place

from which we hope to emerge

and return to normal

long after bed time

commences

A Hotchpotch of Chance

Scottish yet not Scottish

neither there nor here

nor Polish

nor Irish

nor British

European of a sort yes

but my philosophy is the East's

my core from China and Japan

Poland is in my heart

because of my father's woes

and his family's despair

but I am not Polish

I am from Hamilton

of Hamilton

in Hamilton

with Hamilton

We are legion

let them emerge

each in its own turn

and not dwell too much

on the confusion of identity

which is after all

just a hotchpotch of Chance

the meeting

I have a meeting

I have to attend

I have to attend to myself

whatever myself is.

Perhaps the purpose of the meeting

is to understand who myself is.

the rain she pours

the rain she pours

and does not stop

always she pours

and, warm inside,

shelter safely

but the little robin

on the tree outside

who will care for her?

quiet afternoon

in the lull

peace

after the busy spell of work

time to simmer down

time for green tea

time to be still

footsteps

footsteps

on the kitchen floor

the noise of food being prepared

the scraping of knife and butter onto toast

meow of a cat

it's hungry too

demands service