And so today, you ask me
What is your life about?
Why are you? What do you mean?
What is your function, what are you for?
And I will have to tell you
about the woodpecker drumming
and the carpet of celandines
below the old railway bridge,
the wrens defending their gardens
in a mad trill of music,
the sourdough bubbling in the kitchen
and the warm smell of soup,
the logbooks stacked beside my chair,
the firelight, a growing poem.

A springtime poem, but this is the mood for today. The world seems to be going to hell in a handcart, and there isn’t anything I can do about it, apart from this. I’m not making any great claim for it, but it isn’t exactly frivolous either. Love grounded in reality is where we need to start from. I’m sending love.