On my chimney top, the seagull meditates with curiosity
It dwells beyond the dance of dawn and meandering clouds.
A wood pigeon, another meditator, sits on a nearby extended branch
Who, like the Buddha, loves tree as a companion to solitude.
I stand in my loft just below the gull
dwelling on the same infinite expanse
revealing far more than we think
Through the blue sky, I can see as far as
Stuttgart, Brighton and Welwyn Garden City.
The gull, pigeon and titmouse feel grateful for such breathless gifts.
In the small back garden, the pigeon drops in for breakfast,
A handful of seeds from Poundwise sprinkled on the lawn.
Seagull rarely swoops down into fenced garden for breakfast,
We never interrupt each other at mealtimes.
Respectful of each other’s space,
Respectful of the solitary tradition of each other.
Mindful of our release from similar birds of a feather
The three of us rest in our precious aloneness
With our abiding of an uninterrupted view
At times, I fly away to houses and trees elsewhere
They stay to savour the fragrance of the day.
The gull has long since tamed the turbulent sea
While the pigeon knows its winged majesty in the woods.
The birds know where I am
As they write the story of my life.
I have no need to live forever
I have outlived eternal life
That’s what the wood pigeon told me this morning
On another day, the seagull told me of the stillness of the wild
From its rooftop perch,
As it slowly moved its head from side to side
So as not to disturb 10,000 things.
What do the birds whisper or call to you today?
Only the wild deserves to seize our attention.