Divine whispers of life-promise
were once delivered via
bell tower’s call – religiously
apparently – or not at allThis morning seagull’s
soaring is transient white light
aloft – and liberating
borderless and glorious it seemsToday the Voice is heard
soughing in trees and
rattling red roof tiles or
cast off feather’s fallAnd blown through rusty
fanlight direct to dreams – or
satellite dish reception
delivering beamsWhere are the edges beneath
this blue dome and whence the
soul-knowing recognising
home away from home?There’s greater wider
gyre around the Tower
and the transient light
immutably knows – that allis in all
SRM
see travelpad
wind in my wheels 🌱 
And as I finished reading this, I exhaled…beautiful.
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This place takes the breath away Mimi. And then restores it again, clean and deeply 😃
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