Thursday, 23 May 2013

23. Moon and Kestrel

Moon and Kestrel

When I am shattered
And have nothing left to give,
It is often time to retreat 
And to find the
Constant place of arms
Big enough to embrace:
The silent, supporting constancy 
That my sofa is.

Guiltily, at first
But with gradual quieting,
I watch pulpy mush.
Possibly even open mouthed
And deeply breathing,
Emptying care, pressing pause
To my brain, so all I feel
Would be a ripple line

The kitchen clock
And the mug
In my hand
My favourite toy
And comforter.

After an hour
Of questionable TV,
 I look up.
The May Month Moon
Is almost full.
And a Kestrel
Hangs like a fluttering
Fan-tailed and
Over the hedgerow.
He watches for vole snacks.
I move to my fridge
And look in.

If I hung like that
Over my life today
What part of me is morsel
Hiding in long grasses;
And what part of me
Capable of wild precision,
And the beauty
Of remorseless slaughter?

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