For one night only

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For one night only

 

By 5.30 they were gathering.

The paintbox sky was losing the will,

and I called you from the shore,

to draw you out,

to parcel up the moment,

before the darkness scrubbed everything away.

 

Ten minutes later you were by my side,

your face in profile –

bruised from another day’s assault,

but reliably perfect –

gaze following the swarm of starlings,

over and above and around and over the water,

lost in their murmurations,

wanting to be neither explained nor described in words.

 

Lapsed finally into that state, immeasurable in time,

we prayed for the inevitable gloom to somehow spare us,

we begged each one of the thousand birds

to circle once again before dropping to the reed bed.

 

I kissed an exploratory tear as it left your eye,

knowing exactly what it was for.

 

 

first published in Wildflower Muse, 2016

 

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Free Will

Free Will 2

Free Will

 

From the elegant concrete

of this bridge they built

to usher the trucks away

from their pretty town,

the river is a mere bead,

an errant raindrop moving across

the blank panel of the Earth,

answering only to gravity.

 

These cars, their contents,

cross from one side to the other,

never knowing, never seeing.

And you’d thought that by now

you might’ve been able to control

something more than just this,

the place and time of your own

re-entry into the bigger picture.

 

first published in Wildflower Muse, 2016