Of nothing
Babbling, scribbling
Child of
No thought.

Within complete freedom
I offer this poor
Song to no-one in
Particular

With great
Love and compassion
For all the sufferings
Of the night

Up the steep steps
as you reach the age old fort,
you breathless behold
the green valley down below
and that magnificent mound of rock
by the name Robinson Hill.

In the sweet silence of birds' chirping,
the winds reek of rifles and gun smoke
and you hear not the rustling leaves
but bullets echoing all over the valley
one more down, another down
as they held the fort till fell breathless
passing into tombs and memorials
you read to pause for a breath
up above the green valley
where the grasses grew over the blood.

The mother's lap
Is the first teacher
Of a child

Be there for the children
They need you in their life
Guide and show them the way
Help them see the light
Encourage them always
Give them tender-loving care
Lift them upward when they are down
Just be there

i know now
why i planted
that vineyard so
many years ago now

it is so
when you are four
you can walk
up and down the rows

while your parents watch
from a close enough distance
and you marvel at the
tall foliage and fruit
hanging so close and ripe
and you realize but for a brief moment

that you never want to grow up