(A poem inspired by Charlie Chips)

LABOURER on the Suffolk fields, cycles of sunrise to sunset.
Seeking out the unseen tides of the mind, lusting for
The sweet sleep of the labourer.

In the soul centre of the wandering fields he hears the Suffolk hymn
Sang in the tonal beauty of home winds welcoming ……….

Tales of tales of tales in the theatre of the setting sun,
No one knowing except us, and the kind presence of old Suffolk chimneys breathing.
I listen to the home harmonies of evening song choirs telling me it is safe to sleep, and so I sleep.

Somewhere in that vast mystical landscape, someone is putting another log on the fire, eternities song will rise with the flames of truth, and we will know a kind of tomorrow.

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