Artwork

Safe Harbour

Safe Harbour  In chill November, stoutly, you and I,  bent-backed and booted, turned into the wind. Sinking in the slow, red mud, we walked. I tracked your giant steps heard in their clink and tumbling crush,  the singing of the stones saw rocks like teeth in the sea’s stark mouth  slow drawn by time’s far …

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Our Ship of State

What man commands this ship of State? O who will navigate? Who’ll set her course and keep her straight? O who will navigate? When did hypocrisy and greed become our prized template? Long may the learned cogitate — but who will navigate? Now tolerance has ceased to be a virtue we all fete and honesty’s …

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