Hold the tiller fast
As grey gulls surf
The unseen wave
Leeward of the mast
And I at peace
In my dead reckoning
Far between the harbours
Of duty and burden
Riding the tide of release
Now should cat stay
Here on this day
Might we not pray
The time has come
For mouse and cat
To mellow some
And end this spat
And I in deep repose
Enjoy the gentlest of scenes
Bask in this moment of succulent nothings
In a complex
Of rectangle and square
Though rich with gardens
Water flowing through fountains
This space of rounded stone
Softened only by circular curves
Is the place of peace for me
The beach to myself
My thoughts to myself
Long moments of solitary reflections
But for the wind whisking them off
And the surf drowning them out
So instead a solitary peace
Peace besets me
In this dwindling hour of daylight
Content with the cool darkness to come
Most of us are allowed a choice there
To dive right in with more or less grace
Or cling to the land against the inexorable tides
No matter the choice, whether or no we have one
We are all, inevitably, drawn down into that great depth
I rather like to think a beautiful light awaits us there
But for the gulls
Soaring with graceful ardour
Placid amidst the tumult
Inside my little cockpit of calm and warmth
I sing “Wassiye! Wassiye!”
With Habib Koite
A song of mirth and joy and love
Just as is the song within me
As I navigate existence
Across the expanse of being
And all its many storms
Pix to Words 