Contemplation

poem

Our house sat on wind-worn ledges with

a rocky footpath that sloped to the sea.

We sat at our table on the flagstone patio,

in the gap between the back door and the sharply 

rising hillside.

We shared wine and cheese and a season of 

parenthood together. And, as the sun followed its 

route over our roof tiles, its rays touched the peaks, 

then hurried past the gap so as not to disturb our

eternal discontent.