A poem

Gentle scenes on this Thursday, this very time and place
the eternal sun warms the path
where I sweep while birds dart and wings beat air,
Take care to nurture the budding thought that Thursday brings
with love and grace, an invitation to turn and face life,
Poetry and prose repose in the churning of my mind,
I sit now to leave something behind and watch the clouds assemble overhead,
Water gushing in my pond just beyond my view
where the fruit trees all stand on this piece of land which we own in law but was never ceded,
we succeeded to divide and rule even my fish have their own country
to swim unfettered,
Thursday morning, thoughts collide and collude to create something lasting something worthwhile as a legacy…
Thursday will pass soon as well as my brief occupation,
will I be recalled or remembered at all?
that is not for me to say it should not colour my day, while birds’ flit, fish swim and fruit trees fruit,
I am here in the present, which even as I write has drifted into the past the only thing that lasts is the soil I rake and shovel,
my mind teems like that pond, yet I have gone beyond my scope in embracing hope, I found God in the sun that rises above all.

Chris