Out of the window
          -an inclined skylight-
in the distance
         I see a tall conifer
it heaves restlessly
         in the wind
against a grey sky
         I see too
a roof hip attached
         to the roof ridge
of the house opposite
         noting an angle
of 135 degrees :
         the tiles are weather-worn
a little moss has gathered
         they are all due
for renewal

All things have a life
         the birds warbling
in the bushes
         the rose garden
where the birds
         sometimes sing
the train heard
         passing through
the mountain pass
         by Emily Dickinson
who in turn had a life
         the pebbles pounded
to oblivion on Brighton beach
         all things hurtling
towards extinction
         all in their own good time

John Lyons


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