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All day they’ve been rising and falling
in front of the window,
hectic flights of lilac and pearl
and hoverings,
wondering perhaps whether to perch on the sill
or slip back down to the waste ground
where the willows wait in the coastal wind,
the silent irises exhale a lemon gold
into the cold air, wet earth.
Dove-decisions. Whether to be on watch
high up here
or down there in the busy branches,
the sea of willow leaves.
Tree-heaven or sky-heaven.
Discarded breast feathers roll down the roof tiles
rolling softness through the house,
a sudden change of heart.
Then they’re up, a whole puther of
them,
pushing and pulling the air with their wings.
Are they holding the air together?
Their flock-intention, flock purpose
suggests that nothing in this afternoon
could be here if not for them,
as the sun itself perhaps could not rise
without their urgent singing in the branches before day broke. Book prices are for UK postal rates only. For
Europe please add £2, for USA and Canada please add £3,
for Australia please add £3.50.
Send your orders to
THE RIALTO, PO BOX 309,
AYLSHAM, NORWICH,
NR11 6LN ENGLAND |
