Tempted by the blackberry
in a wild, and tangled rift,
treading lightly to avoid
the thorns reminder of a gift:
How timely is that visitor
who turns another page,
mellow and plaintive there
measuring my ticking age,
years concertina and in the round
sums up a life time with a sound;
what draws me here, beckons me to stay
as down into a pool I point away,
the suns arc, reflecting what I said
has made my world with neurons in my head,
my image, broken by a fallen cone.
I have a centre that ripples on
and all my seasons begin and end
and a ring around these trees my friend.
~Roy K Austin
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