There were sand dunes there once.
I slid down them,
jumped, laughing.
There was a green field there once,
I looked right across,
to trees, to sky.
There was an old hotel there once.
I took tea, cosy
with my friends’ secrets.
There was honour here once.
The airwaves
tremble with bitterness today.
We had conversations here once.
Now, cables and ear-plugs.
I was at home here once.
I’m lost.
Exhaustion?
A sneaky virus on yet another train?
A cold morning run, who knows.
Silence overtakes me;
A sign.
Patience, patience,
Unexpected space
among commitments,
parting a to-do list thicket.
Stillness;
the beech trees hold their
breath too.
Patience dans l’azur.
Aside from life,
days slide into blur.
Voiceless, those with me
whisper back.
Chaque atôme de silence
I give into mystery,
tumble into poetry.
Est la chance d’un fruit mûr.
Wait.
Note: The lines in italics are taken from ‘Palme’ by Paul Valéry,
extraplorer 