BANDWIDTH

My system is frozen
My hair is a mess
My skin looks terrible
My speech is stuttering
My hearing is impaired
My brain is bamboozled
I don't have the bandwidth to take it all in
I've made an appointment with my GP to run a speed test
I asked for an Ethernet cable to be plugged into my arm
Pretty soon I may need to go on IT support

THE MAGIC MONEY TREE (PART 1)

As she absentmindedly opened her bank statement, Daisy squinted uncertainly at the screen of her tablet. What? There must be some mistake. Instead of the usual modest three digits, a one and four zeroes trailed across the white page: £10,000,762! Where had all those extra digits appeared from? Was this some kind of joke or scam? She shook her head and refreshed the page. The numbers remained stubbornly in their places. One hour later, a series of confusing conversations with the bank had only deepened the mystery. "An untraceable, anonymous donor has legitimately deposited £10 million into your bank account" was the gist of it.

Daisy decided to be patient. So a magic money tree had dropped a £10-million apple into her lap. Yeah, right! There had to be a simple explanation for this mysterious endowment of benevolence. It was only a matter of time before a letter from the bank would plop onto her doormat, explaining all. This strange incident really wasn't worth mentioning to anyone among her circle of family and friends.

And so Daisy waited. A week went by, then a month, then three. Then one day a new quarterly statement appeared in her inbox. It included her annual interest. Last year, she recalled, this had amounted to the princely sum of £1.50; this year it was £36,472. Thirty-six thousand, four hundred and seventy-two quid! Daisy rose from her desk, stared out of the window, and exhaled long and hard. This wasn't a fantasy any more, this magic money tree was real, and it was starting to drop more apples!

OPPORTUNITY KNOCKS

What is fear but the opportunity to show courage?
What is waiting but the opportunity to show patience?
What is following but the opportunity to lead?
What is fire-fighting but the opportunity to flameproof?
What is meanness but the opportunity for compassion?
What is abandonment but the opportunity for support?
What is selfishness but the opportunity for generosity?
What is pride but the opportunity to show humility?
What are all these things but the opportunity for growth?

ZOOM MADONNA

As my amused muse poses for the artist
Her face is a picture of serenity
Against a rich screen of lapiz lazuli
How I love to watch the trace of a smile
Flicker elegantly across her features
A classical beauty framed in mundane black plastic
How much more she merits
A sumptuous surround of gold leaf would not befit her
A widescreen replaced with a golden mean
How the cobblestones must miss her fleeting footsteps
The cold columns her gentle caress
How lonely the boys
Draped over their mopeds in hollowed out streets
Dreaming of a time when their catcalls pinged around the piazzas
How the pews of the basilica
Long to welcome her in silent prayer
How downcast are the alabaster pilasters and fabulous frescoes
Melancholy in their baroque majesty
But the zoom Madonna returns my gaze
Renaissance woman
The face that launched a thousand conference calls

FULL MOON

Minutes from the mundanity of the rush-hour crush
Just within range of the giddy chocolate aromas
We stumble upon a land of fabulous mansions
The lanes unravel to reveal guilty facades
All terracotta tiles and patterned brickwork
Beds of fragrant roses and fiery red rhododendrons
Manicured gardens and pedicured lawns
Gilded drives are the resting place
For well-fed BMWs and Mercedes
On window sills sit sculptures of Apollo, Venus and Shiva
They say King Midas once stayed here
Behind the houses wild and beautiful gardens extend their tendrils
Spacious pools fed by waterfalls and populated by nymphs
Surreptitiously I clamber on top of a mossy boulder
To watch the naughty nymphs splashing around in the evening twilight
Their giggles swallowed up by the gathering gloom
A fox saunters by
Somewhere in the woods
A stag bays and a wolf howls
The night is very soft as we travel home
Beneath a beard of stars and planets

PANDEMISPHERES

Disconnection or relationship?
Authority or leadership?
Restriction or constraint?
No because, or yes if?
Selfishness or generosity?
Fear of failure, or courage in adversity?
Shutting down the space, or opening it up?
A power grab, or a just cause?
Holding an opinion, or noodling on a thought?
Napping or thrashing?
Boxing it up, or unpacking it?
Being authentic or showing integrity?
Helping onerself, or serving others?
Machine education, or human learning?
Being world-class, or acting as if?
What you do, or who you are?
Filling jugs, or lighting candles?
Staying in bed, or showing up at the desk?
Knowing the answers, or asking the right questions?
Clutching to the illusion of control, or relinquishing it?
Winning the finite contest, or playing the infinite game?

THE STREET IS ALL MINE

The street is all mine
So I follow the waxing moon
A glowing egg in its darkening firmament
Bowling downhill
Passing the neat and tidy suburban lawns
The screens flickering in bedrooms and living rooms
Dodging the cars that mount the pavements

The street is still mine
So I turn the corner
The moon on the outside lane
The lilac here so fragrant
The tiny cherries so filled with promise
Strangers in my house
The gradient beckoning me on

The park is all mine
Though the odour of marijuana lingers
The moon now in pursuit
The geese retired for the evening
The joggers soaking in their bathtubs
The dog-walkers safely back in their kennels
The grass gently yielding beneath my feet

The street is again mine
So I follow the bend
The moon hard on my shoulder
Past the new houses with their straight lines
Cutting the twilight with a sharp blade
Along the sleepy leasow
Homeward bound

WRONG AND RIGHT

Something about this is wrong
This car-peopled asphalt desert
This severe architecture
All edges and angles
Not a crack in the pavement
Not a weed in the flower bed
Trimmed bushes with no flowers
Deathly silence
A discarded dust mask
A dirty wet wipe on a lawn
Five minutes later in the wood
Everything feels right
The soaring limes rise like massive pillars
Worshipping the dawn
The fluty calls of a song thrush
Answered by the insistent alarm of a great tit
Treebark weaves sinuous patterns
Pools of light illuminate small clearings
In shadier glades
Bluebells stand to attention
Soldiers in massed ranks
Saluting the day