I am very lucky where I live because I can still see the night sky –
just . I used to walk all these roads when I was a girl. Then they
were pitch black and the stars were brilliant.

SHUFFLING THE STARS

We shuffle the stars
Out of their places
Whenever we need
A new world
To surround us.               

Filling the heavens
With so many stars,
We create
A canopy of silver,
In whose shining
We see our own reflections
Touched with glory. 

At last,
Becoming wholly 

    Distinctive individuals. 

                     © 2018 Gwen Grant

    GARDEN OPERA

The blackbird sends
Notes of gold
Drifting over the garden,
Turning colour into music.
The singing,
Strong and sweet,
Calling memories to mind
Of sunny days,
Of gold touching
Thoughtful faces,
Of sudden rain
On lovely evenings,
Of drowsy flowers
Dripping melodies
From sunlit fingers.

Long blue notes
Gathering sparkling reds, yellows,
Oranges and sweeping greens
Together.

Until the red robin
Hustles in,
Its fierce and perfect song
Scattering everything
To the four winds.
Plunging a startled world
Into a new opera
Demanding attention.

The soft sigh
Of a butterfly wing,
The smoky croak
Of a frog in the river,
The harsh shout of a crow
Adding their own notes
Of joy on this golden
Summer morning.

         ©2021 Gwen Grant.

RESURRECTION

We all have our own Gethsemane
When times are against us,
When, faultless and perfect,
Darkness no longer has an airy lightness
But falls upon us
With the full weight of sorrow.

From Gethsemane there comes always
That long walk to the crucifixion of hope,
That slow procession into loneliness,
That sombre step into a darkness where love
Becomes nothing but an old and lovely dream.

Yet that dark garden flames
With the resurrection of a living hope,
Throwing light into the darkness,
Bringing peace to the desolate,
Making all love new,
Its eternal promise forever redeeming,
That where love is,
Time no longer has any meaning.

© 2015 Gwen Grant