the turning world

we never know what songs an stories are hidden in the stones around us, in the hills and the mountains, and in the whisper of the sea - unless we take time to listen

so, at this failing moon, I watch the wind and the tides in Hong Kong, as once I watched the Border seasons turn, and I sit here calmly, and I think of how the old old world turns

there are invisible bridges we cross every day, unknowing, and descents we can make into the world of dreams (if we choose to), a world - or worlds - at our finger's end, if we just reach out and touch

what small lives we lead, and so much to explore.....


And today is the birthday of my poor dead brother, for which I have no words but constant loss and a sore heart.