This poem isn’t much more than the literary equivalent of doodling. But it is the first night of the school holidays, the eve of Good Friday (and with it the night before a church service which I am contributing some poetry for), and the end of a difficult week emotionally, so I felt in need of some writing to help me get my head straight. This poem is an attempt to do just that. I hope you enjoy it. One Day I wonder if, one day, we could find a place Where the nettles of spring do not bite us, Where the trees sing songs of comfort and peace And I do not flee from these flowers. I wonder if one day, amidst these thick hours, I might face down the wildest of seas And take in the birds’ fluid motion of flight as They swoop in their orbit of grace. Perhaps; though my mind so often devours Itself in these cycles, these cries of unease, All the flowers of the sea turned to detritus, Short seasons of triumph to disgrace. Perhaps; then the anguish of my every pace Might lift and the sea’s soft rhythm requite us, Midst the cooing of seagulls, the swaying of trees, The safety of love and its towers.