Latest Poem

My Bench

Not on the tarmac esplanade

Where the proudest benches tout.

Nor facing the rising or setting suns  –

It needs no glory from light’s posturing.

Not varnished annually  –

Its grain is weathered truth.

Overgrown, uncatalogued,

It hosts no remembrance spray,

Save the blossom fall

In sadness and in triumph.

Sit away from faster paths.

Under this unpruned bower

The world in shaded silence

Unfolds itself around you.

Stuart Larner

republished from Every Day Poets