Learning still…

To know the sound of a robin or a pukeko call

To see a sycamore whizzer and collect conkers at fall

And to know that inspite of it all

I know nothing.


I was given eyes to enjoy the sunset at eve

Ears to hear the geese call as they leave

And I know I can smell a storm on the breeze

and yet I know nothing.


I know for sure the road is long and winding still

And that whatever the weather we must do what we will

To better the lives of others with our goodwill

And still I know nothing.


As each day passes by of this I am sure

There are interesting things and I need to learn more

There will always be a wonderful allure

To learning still.


©Alison Jean Hankinson.

This is for d”verse poetics.


Hope and Anchor.

Robin singing in the hawthorn tree

A timely reminder for me.

That this day is full of hope.


©Alison Jean Hankinson

It was a difficult week this week, and for a while there I was at a bit of a low ebb. Funny what can and does knock us of our course and it is hope that pulls me through.

A few years ago when we were having some colossal woes at a school I was working in, a senior leader proposed that hope was what would steer us forward. Someone questioned this was a valid foundation for any future to be built on and I felt like saying loudly with all my head and heart that sometimes hope is all we have.

The Hope and Anchor is the pub in the village where Dad lives, and it was where we had our wedding reception, and I think that hope was one of the things that my parents taught me to value. Faith Hope and Love.

The images were taken today in Port Carlisle, where Dad lives.




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