On the surface of things

That fox is back
           this afternoon
lounging on the shed roof
           nothing better to do
throughout the day
           I never saw a creature
so laid back
           It pays no attention
to the ginger cat crossing
           the lawn before mounting
the low garden wall
           and tipping its body
over the side
           and out of sight

There are birds in the bushes
           too that are singing
for each other :
           the fox pays them no heed
The morning rain has passed
           and the sun is out finally
It could have been a better day
           but it could have been worse
and the fox couldn’t care less
           it lives its life on the surface
of things and at this stage
           of the game it’s seen it all

John Lyons

A rush of blood

A squirrel that one day
           I saw shoot up a tree
right to the very top
           way in the distance

and I wondered
           what had driven it
to run so fast
           as though its life
depended on it
           and maybe it did

but there were
           no predators around
as far as I could see
           so it must have been
sheer exuberance
           a rush of adrenaline

surging through its limbs
           but having reached
the very top
           there was nowhere
left for it to go
           but down

John Lyons

Summer idyll

The rich past remembered
           strawberries on the lawn
the smell of freshly cut grass
           the bushes thick with lavender
and roses in full bloom
           a sky unbroken but for the birds
aimless in their timeless flight
           the dragonflies hovering
over the pond where water spiders
           stepped magically creating
tiny depressions in the surface
           nature’s circus in full swing
and the dust of our days settling
           all around us as the evenings
drew on and we clung
           to all our loves for dear life

John Lyons

Love lucid

Love lucid
           in the light of day
so the year turns
           and the leaves
as feathers
           to the wind
out with the old
           There is a pattern
to our history
           and to the steps
we have taken
           eternal return
and growth
           Inchlings all
purged of ambition
           we adhere
to a prophetic script
           and what does it all mean
and where will it all end
           love lucid in the dark night

John Lyons

Lean into love

Whichever way
           the wind blows
lean into love
           it will shelter you
from storms
           and from yourself
lean into the warmth
           that curves in caresses
that is there
           when you need it

Lean into the eyes
           that say yes
and maybe
           and perhaps
but never no
           whichever way
the time flows
           lean into
the here and now
           of her arms
the silence of her kiss
           the beat of her heart
every which way
           lean into love

John Lyons

Autumn naturally

Let’s face it
           the leaves are dead
a gust of wind
           sends them up into the sky
and for a while they float
           as they come drifting down
to the ground
           and I see them
from the bay window
           and think that there’s
a lesson to be learnt here
           green gone to a golden rust
supple life turned
           friable to the touch
and all of this
           the way of the world
but the atoms are not dead
           and I know of no way
in which they might
           decompose : surely
they will enter the earth
           and be drawn up
via the web of roots
           to flourish once again
on a living branch
           one distant spring
that I doubt you or I
           will ever see

John Lyons