Swirling air near hardened ground,

take flight - and me with you. `

The air's overrun with emotion.

Each wave makes you new.

Whirlwind, you seem not to go away!

Can you tell me tales

of what was, long before my birth,

of where you were when Earth

first formed or, later, Britain shook,

and Pompeii turned to ash?

Where were you when my ancestors left,

or when, after burning up with lust,

my heart turned to dust?

Are you that cooling ocean breeze

that whirls to a symphony of raging seas

where lightning and thunder in majesty meet?

Or are you just the giddy spawn of Nature,

playing at my feet?

- Avi-ann Miller

-------------------------------------------

Ward 3, Bed 13

A throbbing in the heart of pain,

praying the hurt away. There is moaning.

I stare down a grey tunnel,

searching for the light. The silent tunnel

is a conduit to the answer.

I travel in extremes, on waves of despair,

to the place where pain is.

The grey passage fades;

I lie among the dying.

A new patient has filled the space

while I brushed my teeth.

Morning is a dying time.

- Raymond Mair