in the heart of Wilson’s  Prom

waits a Boardwalk.

Enter

a sacred world :ancient cathedral creation awe.

Whisper

as new blades pierce the ravaged  earth.

A verdant resurrection,

tree ferns rise from the ruin of fire and flood

and the canopy of myriad greens

allows sunlight and rain in equal measure.

Whisper

because you are intruding

on eternal evolution.

Leave, tiptoe,

and you are uplifted by a few precious moments of sharing

life at its richest.

Les Littleford    November 2011

Sometimes the frostbite still tingles

And  the memory clicks into gear

After 44 years I  still hear  the shadowy scream

As Simon flew batlike  over my head

And I

Seconds later

Screamed  upwards.

Fighting  needle sharp

Spiralling swirling Spindrift,

Combating the mind numbing

Finger freezing

Cold

 It was about midnight when time seemed to stop

Wondering when

If

The light would ever come.

My mind played games

As the wind howled 

And we lived our individual  nightmares

Separated by darkness

Connected by fear and rope

Dreaming and dozing

Fighting for balance

Recalling

With horror

The terrifying  roar

Through eighteen freezing

Endless hours until

Like spiders dangling on lifeline threads

The rescue appeared through the mist

To lower us  to the valley floor.

Hot drinks

Suspicious media

Grateful friends

And

Eventually

Avalanche invaded

Restless

Sleep.

Flags dance in the sausage breeze

As families and friends gather

For the celebration of nationhood

Across the land bands, parades march as one

And it seems  today we are one nation

But a  darker  past

Is never far away

And ugly scenes tarnish  the festive spirit

Is the flag waving TOO enthusiastic

Is complacent too unfair a word

Are there too many unresolved issues

To be truly ‘lucky’.

Compassion, generosity, kindness

Are abundant in our land

But so is prejudice, injustice and self interest

And history tells us to be very wary

Of excessive flag waving.

I’ve given away the white board markers

emptied the files

shredded confidential pages

which no-one would read

and wonder

what’s next?

Images chase  across my memory

long forgotten students frozen in time

issues now resolved beyond my consciousness

Retirement is a different state of mind

Purpose more difficult to find

Days no longer structured by a role

And meaning  more elusive for the soul

Time, once the enemy,

now lingers generously

and I must control it

not it me

But there’s a butterfly freedom

previously denied

And the challenge is to use it

not watch it

flutter

away.