WHERE  WAS  I ?

Far continents echo in my head:
drums, muezzin,
rains on thatch
and all the new colours of birds.

So the possibilities are clear.
But how then are
all these endings already in place?





HOW IT HURTS

        Or when your state of mind
the yearn  the look
        the duck wheeling over
the dusk
        and the late trees dark in
the sounds of winter

         it hurts
         the way you

no

         it helps
         come to terms

a burbling curlew on the rivermud

the owl of long long silences
punctuating your sleep





FURTHER IN

All along they knew:
that altered light on the far peaks.
The shift in the forest sounds.
How the streams’ dialects changed
as they moved further in.
How the birds flew lower and lower.
How flowers changed colour
looked at from different angles

and that’s all it was
            the way flowers
clouds hiding the tops

            no way to

after two weeks

lost the ability to count?

lack of light emphasising their pain





ON THE SKYLINE

Then just now
it all falls into place
and will be a moment
to remember?

The classic reactions:
make time/ or
over-react

snow in the air?

crackle of lightning up
on  the skyline?

a change in the stream?

we try to focus on detail
we try to see the whole picture

(wipers flick as we sit
stuck on the bridge
between here and there
listening to local radio)

later the same weekend,
end of holiday,
the wind stronger,
dust on the hedges
brown curlings to leaves

silhouetted on the silver-blue river
the broken jetty stands into the currents

and years away on the skyline
the rocks will still be there.





NO END IN SIGHT

Such a long silence. Failure to jot a thought. The worries.

Now spring again: primrose, catkin. For this relief…

…barred gates. Warning signs. Smoke, cold, rain.

The empty moors, closed lanes, now seen in context.


                   © Charles Hadfield 2002