GORSE

The gorse of a Devon hedge
Is a wedge of heaven,
Ecstatic, radiant, true
To its hue of gold.
Its presence bold
To give the sun his due.
Its flower may be found
The whole year round
And it is wild.
Not a maiden meek and mild
But an armoured knight
Thick-thorned and bright
Protector of the spirit of the free;
Strong and tender,
Here to render
Fragrance as its fee.

and from the world within....

HARVEST

Gather the Blessings
Of the past, the present, and the future,
To bear them in sheaves of gratitude
To the granary of your Lord.
There to be stored. Beatitude
For transmutation into the Bread of Life.

CREATED AND SUSTAINED

Where did the years go?
Into the ground, into the trees;
That’s where they’re to be found;
Into the rivers and the seas
As well – in the swell
Of land and wave in motion,
Always motion. Sky and ocean,
Earth and fire never tire.
Universal substance is all time, all space,
All matter – created by a force which runs a race
Of spiralling beauty, held within a lace
Of love and joy.