Rest
2012
Lying
Prone and flat
On the cool lawn,
Verdant verge
Of parkland in inner London.
Forgetting
The bustle and crowd
Just soaking the sun
And feeling held
By the terra turf.
2014
Seated
On upper deck
Touching the timbers
Of a vessel
Slowly steaming,
It’s paddle turning,
Upon Mildura waters
Of the Murray River
With birdsong
Harmoniously hovering
Our fore and aft
All sides besides.
Today
Reclining
In the armchair
Footrest supporting
The weary legs
While fingers fondle
The touchpad
Forming letters
Into words
That punctuate the white space
And continuing the conversation
Between the speaking and the silence
As the words
Come
To rest.
Simon C.J. Falk 26 December 2015
Simon's still stanza 