Fortunate am I to see,

The birds ascending from the trees,

This autumn morning full of color,

Misty sunrise, a quiet hour.

To know how blessed I am this day,

That I have seen creations way,

Of taking from me pain and sorrow,

And tells me I shall see tomorrow.

How fortunate I have been,

To have stumbled on this scene,

This moment of perfect hush,

Before the sound of human rush.

I will see a winter’s day,

A watery sun that seems to play,

A song of light through the trees,

A promise of springtime on the breeze.

The summer sun that brings the light,

To tell me that it’s all just right,

No matter what we humans do,

We are only passing through.

But all this glory will be here,

When we have lived our many years,

And every autumn, winter, spring,

More beauty will creation bring. 

Jane Coburn

Hear the winter breezes sigh,

Bringing chills from northern skies,

Dark and grey the clouds do creep,

Swirling, dancing snowflakes sweep,

Downward to the earth below,

Casting a white and misty glow,

Twirling onward ever falling,

Skipping on the breeze that’s calling,

To the silence of the night,

Making winters silver sight,

So in the morning sunshine glitters,

Winters cold air that is so bitter,

Hear it crunch beneath your feet,

No other weather seems to beat,

A sudden rush of wondrous fun,

As winter snowflakes in the sun.

 Jane Coburn

If you can Keep your trousers up when all about you

are losing theirs and not noticing they are;

If you can add two and two and come up with four

without stopping to think;

If you can string a sentence together without the phrase 'in it'

Or words like 'bro' and 'like' surfacing every other word,

Or enjoy a sport other than football,

And still have friends who like you for not supporting MFC.

If you can dream without the need to consult a dream expert,

If you can think without the sound of clanking cogs,

If you can go without seeing every episode of Big brother,

And  meet a celeb without screaming 'I'm your biggest fan,'

If you can bare to hear a piece of classical music without the need to barf,

And say it's boring old girls stuff,

Or watch TOWIE without the need to kill any one who isn't from there,

And build a wall without the need to shout at every passing woman.

If you can make a living alone on what you have learned,

And not rely on a possible lottery win,

And actually stay with in  employment for more than a year,

And not feel the need to claim accident payouts for tripping over you own shoelaces,

If you can stand without complaint in a post office cue,

And stand long after others have given up the challenge of getting a stamp,

And remain with in the law no matter what,

Even though no one else seems to.

If you can talk with them and keep your cool,

Or argue with them with out the need to pound their heads against a wall,

If neither they or their friends can understand 

Nor reason your opinion or countermand it with threats,

If you can fill that unforgiving minute when they finally shut up,

With sixty seconds of blinding sarcasm,

Then yours is the world and everything in it,

And.....which is more...... you ARE NOT a Chav My son.

By Jane Coburn with acknowledgments to Rudyard Kipling.