I’ve been anticipating
these blissful moments
moving in seasonal harmony
so I’ve little fear of mortality,
no desire to rage against the night.
It’s the going on and on too long,
the meddling of scientists
seeking eternal life that I would fear,
not the cycle of life and death
that I can see in my compost bin.
Yes, food for worms seems fine for me.
With solitude like this -
a lizard has just licked my fingertip -
I can contemplate celebratory days,
enjoy small pleasures of my life,
like these biscuits from my neighbour
delivered warm before I drove towards the sea.
There it is subtly layered green
blended sun and sand with blue,
topped with clouds
fresh as the cream on my cake.
I take a dip, fast, it is so cold.
‘Makes your day’ I say to a friend
sitting alone on the beach. ‘Yes’.
We watch a hawk as it flies over his head.