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"I can’t remember what it’s called

but I’m pretty sure it has a green cover.

What I do know is that the author’s name

starts with a P. Or possibly a K.

One of the consonants, definitely.

She was talking about it on Radio 4 last week –

although now I come to think of it,

it may have been Radio 2. On Monday.

It’s a novel. Set in Bridgend, if that helps.

No, hang on … Bridport. Or Brisbane?

She did sound Australian, in a Welsh kind of way.

At least, I think it’s a novel. It might be

an autobiography. Or a travel guide.

But I am certain it has a green cover

because I saw a picture of it

in the newspaper a few weeks ago,

although that could have been another book …”

are words that take a long time to type

into an online search box,

and lead to unsatisfactory results.

I ask my local bookseller instead,

who fetches the book from the shelf.

Turns out the cover was red.

--Brian Bilston

What is June Anyway?

After three weeks of hot weather and drought,

           we've had a week of cold and rain,

just the way it ought to be here in the north,

            in June, a fire going in the woodstove

all day long, so you can go outside in the cold

            and rain anytime and smell

the wood smoke in the air.

 

This is the way I love it. This is why

           I came here almost

fifty years ago. What is June anyway

          without cold and rain

and a fire going in the stove all day?

--David Budbill

[Another cool and wet June day in Vermont].

A Momentary Creed

 

I believe in the ordinary day
that is here at this moment and is me

I do not see it going its own way
but I never saw how it came to me

it extends beyond whatever I may
think I know and all that is real to me

it is the present that it bears away
where has it gone when it has gone from me

there is no place I know outside today
except for the unknown all around me

the only presence that appears to stay
everything that I call mine it lent me

even the way that I believe the day
for as long as it is here and is me

--W. S. Merwin

Time for Serenity, Anyone?

 

I like to live in the sound of water, in the feel of mountain air. A sharp reminder hits me: this world is still alive, it stretches out there shivering toward its own creation. and I'm part of it. Even my breathing

enters into this elaborate give-and-take, this bowing to sun and moon. day or night. winter, summer, storm, still--this tranquil chaos that seems to be going somewhere. This wilderness with a great peacefulness in it. This motionless turmoil, this everything dance.
--William Stafford

On Waking

I give thanks for arriving

Safely in a new dawn,

For the gift of eyes

To see the world,

The gift of mind

To feel at home

In my life.

The waves of possibility

Breaking on the shore of dawn,

The harvest of the past

That awaits my hunger,

And all the furtherings

This new day will bring.

--JOHN O'DONOHUE

[Connemara, Co. Galway, Ireland 2018]