Spring is a doing word
- quietly, softly, resolutely springing up
through the heavy clay, springing forward
past these ground hog days,
offering an initiation rite
of colour, warmth and new light.
Spring is a doing word – so let’s do it right.

Treasure the unknown, the unseen
for there you have untold story,
unsung song and unimagined vistas
waiting to greet us.
And, yes, some of the paths are long,
the climbs hard,
the adventures testing,
but we have good counsel,
and good company
and they will take us
through the deep story to the high chorus
where the harmony will be sweet.

They say that in London
you're never more than 10 foot
from a rat
and a stone's throw
from a poet.
The space in between is taken up
by stalking survey takers.

The crooked streets
that were once paved with gold
are now peppered
with monochrome gum,
half finished poems
and generous cigarette butts.

But out in the painted parks,
within the chorus of churches
or secured in our community halls -  
that's where you can still hear us sing.

At least Jesus knew what was coming:
the betrayal, the pain, the abandonment,
the journey down, the climb back, the reunion
with abandoned friendships,
the chance to walk and sit  
with the taste of simple meals,
but no wine yet,
before his departure.

At least we know what’s coming -
the long journey, the ups and downs,
the sound of the latch on that narrow gate,
the weight of our cross,
the chance to walk our paths with him.

The break of bread, the shared wine,
pointing to a ‘dine with me’ where we’ll feast royally,
when we’ll see him take that long awaited sip
or perhaps simply dip his bread,
nod his head and smile,
knowing there's an eternity of this to come.

At least we all know what’s coming.

I don’t know if you know this,
but I'm a tolerant non-conformist.
I know it's easy to have missed this,
but I've found it essential to co-exist
on an island as small as this,
in a city as full as this,
and that if I want to both resist conformity
and live with a degree of grace-ful harmony
I must persist in my pursuit of resistance
against an unnecessary distance
between me and those who live with difference.

And the more I live my difference
I find that non-conformity
doesn't necessitate exclusivity
and needn't be an excuse
for a self-righteous harsh disharmony.
And instead I'll walk with those most unlike me
to find and celebrate the common thread
of our mutual uncommon humanity.

A rabbit with a pipe sits in their shared space,
like there’s nothing that might move them unless they acquiesce,
like they have no better things to do than do exactly what they’re doing
and they’re doing what they do best
- contemplate the next word, the next note, the next sweep of their pen,
the next throw of the clay and the colour they have chosen to inject
into the next page, the next dye, the next stitch, beat, thread, chapter, adventure
that their maker has placed in their minds eye and it’s then that I realise
that in every moment they’re carefully holding a myriad of holy inspirations
and contemplating their ordering so that beauty may abound
so that their beautiful God may breath out yet more of the Creation.

On your last day,
at your leaving speech
you let your real self show
(just a little)
and then I saw you
stop yourself
just before you got interesting.