Thanks and a poem

[Dennis Greene <dennisg@xxxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

Hi

I'm back after what so far seems to be successful surgery. My thanks for
your prayers and good wishes.

Whilst not specifically a PD poem, the following was begun whilst looking
from my room on the morning of surgery.

Sorry folks - mostly it doesn't rhyme

Dennis



Fifth floor - 5 AM

It's 5 AM,
and night holds day at bay,
gathering darkness in a close embrace
which fills the hollow places of this room
with old emotions, fears, and shadowed thoughts;
half seen half felt forerunners of the day.

(Life lifts its head,
says something,
is ignored;
I gaze out of the window,
self - absorbed)

Beyond the glass low clouds reflect the glow
of orange streets,
banked hellfire in the sky,
and silent roads
pulse with the predawn silver flow

of headlights ,
and the orange red,
red orange blink
of taillights, caught,
caution stop go / caution stop go,
in obsessive / compulsive loops
of imposed behaviour.

How much this view has changed since yesterday;
then sunlight - spilling free across the plain -
insisted that it must touch everything;
and clouds were simply clouds,
the roads were grey,
and all this glowing flow
of traffic
was just one more half seen detail
among a million on display.

I have the thought that light is never free
we pay for light with truth,
and when  we see it all - and nothing ,
we will be free - to chose
between obsessions and the dawn.