The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.
Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made
is star-stuff too?
– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –
dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.
Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.
Tuesday, 25 August 2015
This morning in the meadow dew lay on the grass like a promise. After the night, we stood in the healing water, Dog and I, listening to the laughter from the terrace, the green woodpecker in its dipping flight, until morning came clear of the trees, lapped us in light.
Now, wind shakes the poplars until their leaves rattle, slams windows, harries cloud. No explanation, no apology from wind. It's only we who fear leaf-drop, fear the long long fall to winter as a loss, fear that there is – as indeed there is – no end to it all at all.
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