A new day,
washed fresh and clean
hung under blue sky,
softly sunning
in clear morninglight.
I pad about,
within the seconds that wind into
minutes and hours,
silent, gentle,
so conscious of sights and sounds
that dance about my senses.
It is summer, brim full
of bird song and water ripple,
the soft splashing as yesterdays salt
is washed from today's shoreline,
dinghies to-ing and fro-ing,
trailing white wash
ever busy with their
outboard spluttering.
This island hides from the city hussle,
turning her back on the ceaseless energy
that saps the city of life.
We islanders play
a thousand miles from care,
and five minutes away.
I see them,
across the waterway,
so blue and glimmer-full,
in cars and buses,
racing against their clocks
counting down deadlines
relentlessly driving through
the unseen day.
City life is so blind,
our eyes are full of traffic lights
and the car in front,
enemies stealing our relentless haste
hurling it back in a cloud of chemicals.
I am sitting quiet,
on my island's shores
feeling the gift
of this hour,
still and soft,
above and around me.
I am paused,
not waiting or wanting.