"That Good Night"

"That Good Night"

by William Elliott

A Slender pine,

cuts a silver Moon

With charcoal black

Over the silken lake.

A gentle breeze

ripples. Brings the

green  scented air

Cold in the night,

A rustle of reeds

Fox, rushes

A frog

Croaks.

The Guide Dog

Last November, I was lucky enough to receive a guide dog from Guide  Dogs for the Blind in San Rafael, California.


Having a guide dog has changed my life drastically. I am now much more mobile and outgoing personally.


Here is a tribute to my guide dog, Leif and to all other guide dogs.




The Guide Dog


Forwar, on.
The handle pulls.
Muscles move the journey on.


Walking pace by my side,
A world to see,
With you my guide.


Warm and soft,
muscle and fur.
Now and then a treat offer.
Pull my boy,
Hard againt the drag
When praises are sung,
Your tail will wag.


Thank you Dog,
What a world you serve,
Licks and hugs,
Never swerve/

Easter Poem

He came for me,
He came for you.
We wander with little to do.

He Hung for me
He hung for you.
We watch with nothing to do.

He prayed for me
He prayed for you
When Evil comes our lips are still

He shared with me
He shared with you
Do I ever share with you?

He came with light,
He destroyed the night.
Wecan all share His love of light.

He took away my fear of life.
He saved us all from fear and strife
Go with Him to Paradise.

In a stable the Promise came
Sought no fortune or fame.
On Friday the promise died.

Three days later
The Promise thrived.

Swan : A Haiku

Swan glide on the lake

Paddling; furiously, race

Glide calmly serene

 

This haiku, came to me watching swans at the local park. They seem to effortlessly glide through the water but when you watch more closely they are paddling themselves furiously.

Often what we see as reality is not real, but is in our imagination.

Daffodils - William Wordsworth

Now it is March and when I think of this month, it doesn't bring to mind either St. Patrick or the Eides of March.

When I lived in England March in my garden was the month of Daffodils.

 

One of the greatest poems by Britain's pre-eminent Poet laureate of the late Georgian and early Victorian period, William Wordsworth was Daffodils, the story of a walk by one of the lakes in Englands Lake District, close to the border with Scotland.

The Lake District is well worth a visit in any time of year but this poem firmly sets March in my mind as a perfect time.