We moved into wintertime last night. A good time for a poem that mentions clocks. For over 12 years three friends and I met monthly at each other’s houses to write, taking turns to host and find sample poems. This came from one of those sessions. It’s published in the pamphlet A Stolen Hour, Grey Hen Press, 2020. The poem was also Highly Commended in the 2016 Manchester Cathedral poetry competition. It was a privilege to read it during the prize-giving at the cathedral.

A la Hafiz

For just one minute of the day
open all the windows.
Let your mind run alone,
like a foal that has never
known fields without fences.

For just one minute of the day
let your body rest in a place
where other people run past,
so that they have the permission
they need to go and play.

For just one minute of the day
go and sit within sight of a large clock.
Remember how the three hands
are always trying to catch up with each other.
Feel your compassion grow. Be still.

With all the rest of your time
make bread, make beds, make love.
Do what is needed and then close
the windows. You are already
looking upon yourself more as God does.