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

EEG.

The kitchen clock

Hypnotises

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

Question

Fan-tailed and

Coptering

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,

Patience,

And the beauty

Of remorseless slaughter?