1356
What would moonlight be
With nobody to see it?
What this melody
With nobody to hear it?
What this apple tree
With nobody to taste it?
What this flowing stream
With nobody to touch it?
What this blooming rose
With nobody to smell it?
What would this world be
With nobody to love it?
Brian Hick March 2014
©copyright Sally Hick 2.4.25
1349
You come to me and speak into my silence,
You come to me and ease away my pain,
You come with love to lift my soul again.
You rise above the darkness of the night-time,
You blaze out in the early morning light,
You roll away my doubts and disillusion,
You cleave the limitations of my sight.
You stand by me, you strive when I feel beaten,
You gently turn me back go the right path,
You let me act, yet always there to guide me,
You may chastise, but anger does not last.
What can I do, when you've done so much more
Than my brief lifetime ever could repay?
What from this tiny speck of your creation
Could count for anything along the way?
Perhaps if I could love with just a fraction
Of that love which you have showered on me
My life, my hopes, my faith will count for something
As love flows out, immaculate and free?
Brian Hick March 2013
©copyright Sally Hick 1.4.25
1348
The fields lie heavy, brown with broken soil,
Skirted by thin hedges and dull trees
That watch the ruttted silence, standing gaunt,
Until their branches mutter in the breeze.
No rats, no rabbits, no birdsong from the sky,
No sign of life, no hint of coming spring,
No cattle out to pasture, no new lambs,
No buds, no green, no insects on the wing
To hint that under all this sense of loss
The future fights to break unto the light;
Each root stabbing down as shoots rise up
Before exploding, ravishing my sight.
While you, who had this planned right from the start
Enjoy the silence of a thankful heart.
Brian Hick March 2014
©copyright Sally Hick 28.3.25
1346
With the weather so bad, I thought it must be snow,
Those branches lined with blobs of brilliant white
Against the starkness of the bark beneath
Until they shimmered in the early light
And blossom drifted on the morning's breeze.
Surprised, I looked again and caught my breath;
The railway bank was dappled, overcome
By early Spring, as if a lingering death
Had been laughed off and shafts of the unseen sun,
Oozing through the trees, touched some with gold
And warmed each sleeping bud, returning hope
Of rebirth and the end of winter's cold.
So after days of darkness and of doubt
You smile on us with February's rout.
Brian Hick February 2014
©copyright Sally Hick 26.3.25
1347
A bed
So comfortable
I did not notice.
Brian Hick February 2014
1345
During the storm the birds had disappeared
But this morning a blue tit fluttered through,
Stopping briefly at the coconut,
Before it dived across the hedge onto
The barren branches of the only tree
Left in our garden. It soon flew away
But a pair of blackbirds swooped down to the fence
Eyeing the line of seeds, but did not stay.
A sparrow landed, flustered, hesitant
Then two wood pigeons dropped onto the shed
'Til, singly, they pecked their way along the rain
To find the sesame seeds among the bread.
Spring seems a long way off but this quiet morn
Life returned with birdsong in the dawn.
Brian Hick February 2014
©copyright Sally Hick 24.3.25
