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As I stand with my feet in the ocean,
and look at the setting sun,
I think of how many me's,
have stood in how many seas,
but always stared at the same one.

A snapshot of scenes in the movie of me,
at various times of my being.
A new version of me every single time;
the same star I'm always seeing.

It fills me with curious wonder,
for the places that I may go;
And the life that has yet to happen,
and the things I have yet to know.

Jess

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North Transept

A stone milk tray Eyes of the past Watchful of progress. Golden ochre-pink Periwinkle scar A ship’s ballast from afar. Separate yet together United they stand Teapot and hen. Sharp, knobbly eyes Faces forgotten by wind Trampled and thinned.   by Stephanie
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Feathers

It’s as if all the birds In every weather Had dropped every feather The weight sometimes Of all those why's A ton of lead Or a ton of words unsaid Down on a feathered bed The weight belies The width of squawks When the birds are dead And they sing remembering When a ton of song Weighed the same as Fly away Autumns Flu away fall Feather or not Bird at all. Stephen Kirin
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Yew Remember

Yew remember The flaky times, The broken branches. Yew grew so strong and fast. Yew is not as tough As yew look. Yew exude Attracting berries Yew absorb our gases like thoughts. How’s life within your dangling conscious and pointed needles? Yew nurtured truth yet live in pain. Winter be longer than yew thought. But yew will not be silenced by others. Yew draw A complex pattern. Aching for light But yew can be cool, contented not to sit in the shade beneath others. Yew are alone in this world No more than the oak nor beech. Yew shed a spirited shadow As Yew are a survivor. Anon.
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Virus

The sun is shining But lying a fate that awaits for some of us. An insipid virus waits Ready to pounce Unannounced. Some will survive Some will not We do not know if this is our lot. In the meantime The sun is shining Barbara Wright (photo credit: Daniel J. Schwarz via Unsplash )
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Always with Us

The morning is cold, The sky is black, An emotion called grief, Is on your back. The storm is ferocious, Emotions peek and trough, The boat is disabled, By our indescribable loss. Gradually the storm, Will begin to ease, Giving breath to talk, Reflect and believe. But just round the corner, With just the breeze, The storm returns, You are on your knees. The sea is unpredictable, The sails carry us along, We begin to feel, Our loved one isn’t gone. With love and care, These storms will pass, The boat’s in order, The sails half mast. It’s a long journey, The boat begins to move with grace, It makes you feel relaxed, And puts a smile on your face, We can recall the memories, With all the love in our heart, They will always be with us, We will never be apart.   by Tonya  
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A Glimpse of Shadows

Why is There Sadness in my eyes You ask,  Noticing the hidden depths. After all I’ve been through,  That glimpse Into darkness,  Is all you will see. Anon
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Masked Stranger

I sit alone in a void Waiting, anticipating my fever. A masked stranger takes my arm Jabs me To protect me from a crazy world Like bird flu A mass epidemic to destruct. Like the virus itself Knowing no borders Anxiety crosses the room. I wait ten minutes A lifeline of protection.   Anon
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A Light Touch

Like a single pearl on a lupin leaf I sparkle, motionless, waiting for you to discover me. I like to tease a little, tickling bare limbs, making you shiver with delight. I like to be noticed. In summer I slip softly, silently into the bare earth, quenching thirst, satisfying desire. Winter storms excite me, lashing against windows, whipping up seas, splashing in gutters. You can have too much of me, you say. With scarcity I’m a precious jewel. Over-abundance brings disaster. Julia Duke
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A Mindful Reunion

We meet in silence Clutching blankets brought from home, Holding memories from a year ago When scars were raw, Heads disguised by wigs And tears too salt to weep. I found words difficult then. ‘Body scan’ Was not a mindful exercise But a machine at the end of a corridor. There were places in my body I could not touch with thought. Like chrysalis we scatter the floor Each section of our being Revisited with childlike curiosity, Sensations magnified, the tickle of wool, the press of cotton. A forgotten ache from an ankle. Our teacher’s voice Both lesson and lullaby Returning to the breath Again and again We try to train our thoughts; Naughty as puppies With Baskerville bites I find peacefulness within the ordinary, Rest my head in the soft cushion of a second Savouring the beauty of this moment, Both rooted in earth and reaching for stars. Jacqueline Woods
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A Woodland Ensemble - Psithurism of the Trees.

The plane tree With paper-like rustle Elephant patches And scaly trunk. Memories And mellow whispers Of a darkest tempest Dropping the bass. Constable elms Whispering, suckering saplings Converting To beetle runs beneath. Ash- With minstrel keys playing harmonies masking sinister die back. Crataegus thickets The scratchy rasping may catch you quick. Whispering pines Bend forwards Reaching skywards Splintering the silence. Mother beech With spaltered Marks waltzing And humoresque streaks. Holly reigns in Summer solstice Days shorten And poco a poco winter returns. King of the woods Ships hold Forte and Table fast. Eric
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