The World is Empty, the World is Full
A small house - four walls
and a sunny room,
the sound of cars on roads
somewhere in the distance.
I can hear Ann washing
down past the corridor
and our little cat sits
staring unblinkingly into a corner
waiting for a wandering woodlouse perhaps,
or a reluctant beetle
to meander from under the skirting board.
Her attitude is a catalyst
for my own - expectant, watchful
and full of respect
for the mystery of what happens,
from the slow movements
of a great mountain over eons,
to the minute scuttlings
of an insect's claws.
It all fits, it all fulfils
the promise of a single day,
uncomplicated like a distant God
who wanders unexpectedly into your midst
bringing messages of simplicity:
this table, this chair
this singing life,
a gentle movement through the elements
blessing the earth and the sky.