from BARDO

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.

Roselle Angwin

Saturday, 26 July 2014

another q & a poem



(Imitatio Pablo Neruda)

What does the wind want to
shake out of the leaves on a tree?

Do the leaves in a teapot remember
the plantation where they grew?

Does a fallen leaf
from the tree reincarnate?

Do the night birds compose
the music for the dawn chorus?

Why does the bee hover at my window?
Should I let it in?


Breeze strums through branches.
Leaves shudder their refrain.
Shadows rustle my floor
in the light from the window.

Now and again, a leaf
breaks off, spins toward ground.
Did the wind want that?
'Yes,' it says. 'Let the life

from the tree spread
from its green seals.
Let it find gold
when it touches wet earth.

Let it reincarnate to
the dawn chorus
composed by a thousand lovers
who watched

through the night,
for the bee that waits
against my window
asking to be let in.'

© Graham Mummery July 2014

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