Between the Poles: equinox poem

Between the Poles

20th March 2022, 3.33pm: spring equinox

Beneath the newly-leafing elder
a shoal of wild garlic is secretly flourishing.
Above my head, a pair of buzzards flips and plays.

Yesterday I wrote ‘Saharan dust!’ in the thick
sandy spatters on the car bonnet. Today
the wind is backing; and here on the bench

at the top of the meadow I can see east
to the far horizon, though not enough
as to hear the bombs and smell the fear.

Everything cycles between these poles:
summer and winter, dark and light, peace
and war. For this one equinox moment,

though, on the cusp where day and night
are held in equal tension, I can almost pretend
we could change our lives, the world.


© Roselle Angwin