Prospero's Poetry – Verses by Richard Benger

Neurons

Instruments tuned, all are ready with ears and eyes, hands and hearts, each member a talent, an outcome of tutelage, devotion, diligence,

Horse-drawn over country they arrived, man with the nation's music in his head,

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

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

Like a soft drum roll or a bass recorder, the rising moan of a night time wind

For now, words drive us. In this tower of Babel, voices heave in torrents,

My favourite in this statued building, though not viewed without emotion, the mother's bowed head,

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

A moment of sight, of sound, of thought, a fleeting glance reveals the world.

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

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