First light: a new beginning
rising at the crack of dawn
feel the air against my skin
walk, with the aid of a stick,
listen to the dawn chorus.

Thrillingly,  it’s already late September
over a year since the funerals started
on St Patrick’s Day,
when madness brushed with death.

Now, I’m thinking that when I return
home with Charlie I’ll read
words I can never forget:
“The world is full of magic things,
Patiently waiting for our senses
To grow sharper.”

Today, my senses are sharp,
like a razor I cut through the trash
of society’s long deceit
– and breathe a sigh of pure relief –

The golden leaves on the trees,
the blossoming of the north,
mists mellow in the vales astound me:
such wonder in the world.

My dog and I are old now but we rub along
this pilgrimage of grace.

Learning from each other
how to hone our senses
to see, if only for a while,
deep into the heart of things.

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