north light

Month: August 2015

It is a whisper. You turn somewhere,
hall, street, some great event: the stars
or the lights hold; your next step waits you
and the firm world waits – but
there is a whisper. You always live so,
a being that receives, or partly receives, or
fails to receive each moment’s touch.

~ William Stafford

the trees in leaf
around my mother’s gravestone
I hear no birdsong

cyclists in lycra all along the towpath the scent of cow parsley

milky light
slats cross the window
tail of a sleeping cat

cafe writing on the Royal Mile –
sunlight on a white convertible,
on cobbles

trailing
forget-me-nots
the river today
not even
an insect’s sound

Hiroshima Day, 2015

6 Central Scotland Holgas

approaching the no speed limit sign the flick of a swallow’s tail

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