I’ve sat here for a while and have concluded
that today I haven’t much to say.
I’ve answered emails, shared a lunch, and helped at
food bank. It’s been a fairly ordinary day.
The company’s been good, the job’s been done
but nothing to write home about, or write
a poem about. I haven’t had profound
thoughts or ecstatic moments but it’s been alright.
The everyday is not to be rebuffed,
sometimes the ordinary is enough.
It’s been a fairly standard day, and you know what? That’s fine.
(04.02.25)
I have been made complete, moulded by my maker.
I am an image bearer, bearing his image in my body.
With care my character will carry his within it;
reflecting the family face in my visage,
his will and wants within my walk.
But man is not the mirrored, only the mirror;
I must not imagine I am him,
for in imagining this I become an idol.
For I am not complete unless I live in him
for only in his affection can I finally find my home.
As local ministers we meet once a month to reflect together on a book. We’ve started with ‘The Unhurried Pastor’ by Brian Croft and Ronnie Martin, and our conversation today about being limited beings, who find completion in him and his provision, led to this alliterative verse.
(03.02.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Laurenz Kleinheider on Unsplash
The conversation of the birds echoes
beneath the ancient woodland canopy.
We turn our searching eyes upwards to check on
the source of these trill tongues, but alas, they flee.
A hint of movement flits amongst the leaves,
a trace of colour or suggestive shape:
the twitching of the leaves caught in the breeze
or shadow of the bird as it escapes?
We close our eyes and stand as still as we
are able to and try to disappear,
perhaps our feathered friends will sense our plea,
and stepping forwards, finally lose their fear.
In time the individuals will emerge,
if you attend to the conversation of the birds.
Birdwatching in the woods can be a frustrating affair, so often they remain out of sight, but careful listening can lead to individuals appearing from the chorus.
(02.02.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Tom Bradley on Unsplash
(Edit: swapped the last two lines around, much better for this simple switch! 03.03.23)
In wonder, we walk these woodland worlds,
That groan beneath green garlands of moss.
This verdant dressing, vivid and vibrant,
Drapes the boughs and cloaks their branches.
Tacking across our track, a trickling
Stream carves stripes into our path,
Whilst, circling up above, black corvids
Caw at red kites above the castle.
Is this a place where faeries frolic,
Fearless in their velvet kingdom?
Today we walked the third chain of the Hertfordshire Chain Walk (we’re going back to do the second another day). At times the landscape was quite magical.
(01.02.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
We meet on Friday’s, one o’clock;
foreign faces, different tongues.
Talking with stumbling voices and
a trowel, each time we lay another
brick. Slowly a bridge is built
until at last we finally meet.
One of the highlights of the last year has been our Conversation Cafe at church. Each week we meet a group of Kurdish women, who want to improved their conversational English. We’ve gained as much as they have as we’ve got to know them and their culture.
(31.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by LinkedIn Sales Solutions on Unsplash
Like a languid river, the golden fox lay
outstretched and bronzed under the winter sun.
Sheltered by the fence, she took the time
to rest from foraging for food. Carefree,
she seemed to be unaware of me watching her,
only the occasional twitching of her black-
tipped ears indicated otherwise.
In this lazy moment her life appeared
idyllic. I reached round for my camera,
to see if I could capture a piece for myself,
but as I did she softly slipped away.
I spent my lunch today watching a fox enjoy a half moment of peace and quiet, secure under the sun’s rays in our garden.
(30.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Dušan veverkolog on Unsplash
A journey’s start is critical.
The way we start sets expectations,
The foundations on which we’ll stand,
When difficulties dampen spirits,
And doubts threaten to drag us down.
Lord, help me perceive the light in darkness.
Tonight at church we tussled with this difficult story in Acts 5. It always makes me wince. I sense there’s a way into reconciling myself to it in its context of being at the start of a journey.
(29.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Thanos Pal on Unsplash
Time is
Running
Out
Waiting
In a
Queue
For a
Parking
Space
At the
Hospital
Despite arriving in good time, we ended up cutting it fine for an appointment today. In the end, it was timed to perfection!
(28.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by Sara Kurfeß on Unsplash
Best laid plans and all…
I said I wouldn’t do this
But hey, queue one up
It’s been a full day today. Sometimes you’ve got to do what you’ve got to do.
(27.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo by José Martín Ramírez Carrasco on Unsplash
Sometimes a simple name can conjure a sound,
produce a tone or mood, or evoke a colour.
Try John Coltrane, Miles Davis, Herbie Hancock,
Cannonball Adderley, Wayne Shorter, Charlie Parker.
Say them out loud to enter a world now gone,
where bands chase the elusive rhythm of
adrenaline beating, coloured black and white,
and tinted blue.
Spent this afternoon working to a soundtrack of Blue Note Jazz.
(26.01.25)
© Ben Quant 2025
Photo William P. Gottlieb, Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
Ode for the Day 
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