There is warm weather today He writes from prison says he does not know Wordsworth But that moving from reading To writing is his necessity if The spirit is to stay alive. How does the spirit stay alive When the flowers grow beyond The bars and in the mountain Villages snowdrops gather in Clusters free and unashamed? He does not think he deserves The title ‘poet’ more a teller Of tales a chronicler it’s more Important to be human open Loosed from evil nothingness. He is a swimmer who has to swim Because he is in the sea Because each wave threatens Because wild currents will move Him too quickly from the land. Swimming is what one does A moving body is rhythm Hands arms and legs unite Bright breath dreams its way Eyes set on safe blue hills. He writes daily from prison Like the bravest of swimmers He ‘ll reach the fabled shore of love But when when when even As long seasons drift on teach Discipline of things and surprise.