Things happen

Things happen, my brother,

Like the chair that loses a leg

When it’s your turn to sit 

Or the sparrow flitting in the evening sun

Whose poop aligns so well

With your freshly made hair. 

Things happen, my brother

In that second between action

And your planned reaction

Between the promise and the failure

That causes your mouth to open

Things happen, my brother

Out of the blue

Out of the haze 

And sometimes clearly in your mind's eye

You know it will happen as it will happen

But not in the time and not in the space

Things happen, my brother

Life wanders as it ebbs

From minute to minute

Before a final accident

And then hopefully

You are at rest. 

A long way from home

The migrating kite

Is a long way from home

Even though he soars

Across the skies

Spying the mouse

Hidden in the eaves

He is a long way from the nest

He has built for his old age

Amongst the branches of an Iroko tree

Even as he scours the ground

Of a familiar turf

Where the chicken hides from his shadow

As he lofts on the currents

Wings spread out to catch the wisps

And soak the energizing rays of the sun

He still remembers the lay of his nest

And the feel of the twigs in his perch

High up amongst the Iroko leaves

While the kite is alive

And the currents still flow

With the rays pointing toward the west

And the clouds fleeing towards the east

With the mouse not straying from the eaves

And the chicks beneath their coop

Home is still a long way away

I will stand up again

I make notes to my self

writing in the stillness of recollections

one after another 

the goals missed

the excuses given

the chickens come home to roost

and you know the day is at the end

and the count of feathers falling

and the volume of tittering

inspires your dread of failure

but I will stand up again

older and wiser and better

because the sun will come out

and the chicks will hatch

the cocks and the cockerels will raise their voice

and we all go out again

to do that which must be done.