Hampstead Howl

Hope is so hard

That even the great bard

Delightful in word

Only occasionally heard

The breeze within the trees

Softly cooing comfort

Like doves in Cotswold copses

Or Birdsong Alley near

The dank, organic wood scent

Upon rustling breeze

Sweeping leaves and cares

Easing the way, peaceful

Sitting aloft, softly

Dreaming, like branches

Swaying, in accepting motion

Embrace the weather's mood

As she welcomes her brood saying

Come home, stay a while

While you can, invited

Like Orwell dwelling nearby

Escaping to the transcendent

Call of a world of green

Foliage and earth, grounded

Not a psychedelic high

This time, out there

Where we become one

Elements embracing

On a playful perch

Nested perfectly above

Secure, comforting

 High, open, delightful

Breezy branches blown

Plane trees reaching for the sky

And the stag oak's tumbled crown

Lying down, broken, rotting

Death in life's cycle

As I surrender my fear

Breathing in the wind

Flying, falling, failing

Held by some miracle

To find joy again

In the natural world

Conveyed against dismay

Like the Heath's bench plaques

Tuesday's child speaks to Wednesday's woe

For a shared Sabbath, blithe and gay

Good news bringing a bonny countenance

All week long, always urging

That we might love one another

Because of common humanity

And a shared earth, yet corrupted

In death will arise every tomorrow

For in defeat hope still dreams