September Psalms

 September psalms 2020

Last morning in August

Paint a pink morning

With the finger of God

The last dawn in August

Lights up a bright sky

The stars have abandoned 

Their place in the heavens 

Making way for a day

That bookends the summer. 

Last night the camp closed

On a sad, shortened year

As families returned

To schools that had opened

In Crumlin and Tallaght

In Artane and Dundrum.  

Gone are the children

With their buckets and spades. 

They’ll return the next year

A few inches taller

Refusing to wish our short lives away

Without holding our breath

Til this virus has gone. 

Breathing in, breathing out

The soft breath accepting 

Feeling the peace, grateful throughout. 

Embracing September 

Like a middle aged lover

Holding tight to the moment 

Lest it escape. 

Hoarding each morning

Each second is precious

In a well that runs dry

One drop at a time. 

I shall not wish this day to end

I shall not wish this day to end

Or to skip a single season.  

A brave attempt to jump a plague

Is never reason good enough

To shorten life that’s way too short

To award the moving hand of time

An advantage round the final bend. 

No! Life’s race must run its course

Till we break the tape and cross the line.   

These precious seconds shall be safely stored 

Wrapped with care and none ignored

Of greater value than all the gold

In all the world if truth be told. 

Every day demands attention

It passes once and then moves on

Leaving us before we’ve noticed

For this ship has no return. 

Grasp it, feel it and embrace it,

Squeeze it hard, have no regrets

Living life to the fullest

Loving life before it wanes. 

I won’t rage at life, I’ll just whisper 

Songs of love and songs of sorrow

Across a rainbow in a valley

Some days to lead and some to follow. 

It is a war

It is a war, let’s not forget it,

We’re in a fight with a foe

That never sleeps but stays awake

Never resting on its oar 

We may feel weary, at times sleepy

We may wish for old familiar things

It strikes from hiding in the corner 

Of the bedroom or the larder. 

It’s watching, spying, waiting

For a crack to open up

For it to enter and takeover

When we tire and drop our guard. 

It’s busy as hell because it’s clever

It knows the cavalry will come

In the form of meds and vaccines

That first will wound and then will slay him. 

So stay the course and don’t get trampled

Don’t be a number on a graveyard wall

Keep down the head from all the bullets

We’ll have that hug a year from now. 

Stay prepared.  

17/9/20

It’s a soft September day

It’s a soft September day

The summer has been gracious 

The plague so far has spared us. 

Wild flowers compete for autumn sun. 

Blackberries ripen lazily along a lane

That zig zags to a quiet beach. 

Birds chirp out among the brambles 

They break the silence of the drowsy noon

Mourning a summer that’s left too soon. 

The wind has died and the heat is cozy

It’s an afternoon to lie dozing

On the deck chair in the garden. 

Where the grass lies half mown

Awaiting tomorrow when’s it’s overcast. 

Meanwhile we’ll harvest golden moments. 

For Mother ireland can change her mind 

And  within an hour play a different tune. 

As for now time sits still. 

Reclining in the meadows bereft of hay

These hours could last a lifetime

Perhaps they even will. 

Waiting 

Waiting, waiting in the waiting room

To go to surgery this afternoon 

We’ve become a little band

With our name tags and our slippers 

Our common concerns and worries. 

The cheery nurses putter in and out

They run the show of that no doubt

Firm and pleasant they know the ropes

How to get us in and then out

On up to surgery then post op

Then cups of tea and toast. 

It’s a little village of compassion

For life’s weak and wounded 

A tiny world that lives apart

From busy streets and the ordinary

Cut and thrust of daily life

Until chance makes a summons. 

Rich or poor we all must answer

And present ourselves in dressing gowns

That keep us warm and keep us modest 

Till the surgeon comes and calls our turn. 

Then it’s down to the bowels 

Of the building to get the jab

That knocks us out

To wake up thirsty hours later 

Unaware of what’s given 

Or what’s been taken. 

Life in Hospital is not life as we know it

For death can hide behind any door 

Beneath the calm the stakes are higher

With concern and caring at its core.