dancing on the edge of the void

this morning poetry
this afternoon shovelling dung
*
curlews’ song
glimpses of sky
everything bears us
away
*
the river’s scintilla
no words for the way
the shimmer
breaks up the forest
*
see how the wind skips
against the falling tide
lightly runs fingers all up
the river’s wide back
*
across the water     voices
*
I want to dance
on the edge of the void
and not mind falling
*
I love these faded hydrangeas –
their aqua, mauve, plum –
in this scuffed blue jug
more than I ever loved
their pristine pink in spring
*
you know you’re real
once you’re worn ragged, threadbare
*
and love is like rain
washing everything clean
    after all