(after seeing this on a sign outside a Catholic church, while on a walk) – a poem by Madhuri.
I’ll send a plague from time to time
– bewilder you most every day perhaps;
depending on your own Design –
I’ll make the rivers run downhill
the skies wheel
the lions roar – That is what I’m for –
I’ll make the clouds puff
and the stones rough
beneath your feet as you tramp along the moor.
I’ll make the moss and lichens soft as fur
upon the stones of walls you build
I’ll let the sunshine paint your heart
with temporary joy
and strew the daffodils straight and bright
as youthful acolytes
upon the tilt green sward.
I’ll make you grieve for your own passing
even as you walk
beside forget-me-nots blue-eyed as aught
that Goddess ever wore.
Sit, then, beneath a tree –
Why run, and run, likes horses,
towards the Nevermore?
Sit, and watch, and feel
the Northern sun –
‘Tis only my work
My blessed work
that’s never done –
March ’21, Luddenden
Featured image by Sarah Hongerloot