Prospero's Poetry – Verses by Richard Benger

A Music

I heard music, music I could give no name to, music posing questions, seeming on the brink of possibilities to come.

In the view from where I sit, light pours in from one side; Shapes and shadows, living plants, with books and table, patterned wall,

Knotgarden of dreams and desires, deeds done, Years lie telling on the heart,

There is quiet, the sun has gone down. We are at dusk, and now they come.

On a hill, a bell. Candles quietly lit. Vestments donned in reverence, altar servers ready, incense prepared.

Blue sky, green marsh, green sedge, a gentle sea breeze, blue water reflecting the clear sky.

The foundations of our lives were cast in infancy, from birth and childhood, nurturing and knowing,

Bach Even he was just a baby once, and throughout his infancy caught hold of music by its wings,

At nightfall, trees are nebulous shapes against a darkening sky: fields, hedges and their dwellers at rest, all asleep.

It's my job today to peel potatoes, the least liked of all unpopular chores,

The kingdom of the living and the dead, perhaps is somewhere just within our head;

Push the heavy door, enter into warmth, pass amongst the waiting folk seated in their pews,