Untitled XXV (’19)

blossom burst

something startling, to stay in one place
gentle gift, found seated on a grassy mound
half hour’s dying day, late spring
or early summer blurs, cloud drift cool
you start to feel that strange healing
present to yourself, hawthorn blossom full
golden hour light grass dancer
and so you sit to feel this pass
silent as the breezy marshes
no one else in this reservation
slows you more than meditation
even turning to a book, The Kingdom,
and did you ask for a sign, you did,
amidst this breath of the one garden
sanctuary from a medieval storm
and did a magpie come alone
it did, and did it matter after recognition
it did not, and then first glimpse
of fox you thought to snap
‘queen magpie of the tree, fox sniffing’
he retreats, you wonder at yourself
proof luster for poethood
in your context, ostracism,
so you sit, slip back toward breath, light
magpie re-trees closer, closer, then
here, he comes, proud path bouncer
sure snow waistcoater red unguarded life
sniffing a playful path of power
and you, you feel vulnerable, will he
bite you right on this his path, is that,
is that why you raise again
your soul stealing lens at twenty yards
were you scared he’d dislike you like that dog
when usually that’s never so
in your opposite tonight his growl
stopped you cautious as a girl
– whatever – foxy, wise, has gone
the start of the end of reverie
say goodbye to this, carefully

K. H-H / A. H (24th May 2019)

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