Sunday 10 January 2021

This is the thing with feathers...

 




A couple of days in and the wing feathers

are already bedraggled; the weather

is strangely warm when it should have been cold

- summer in winter.  The year is just days old.

 

Somewhere the light’s dying. Somewhere icy winds

have knifed trees. More grace than can be imagined

even in the unkempt, in the shady light -

the rims of hope and grace are seldom watertight.

 

The anglers are gone, the fishing boats are back,

sun’s in its rightful place in the zodiac.

Waiting for the bones to move a bit less smooth

the flesh to peel away and reveal the truth –

 

that feathers, shaggy or not, knifed trees and all

remain beautiful however the light falls.





10 comments:

  1. Hope is a fragile essential in my book, and bedraggled or she is always welcome. So very welcome (and much missed on the days she is absent).

    ReplyDelete
  2. Ohhh, strong poem for the environment. I like it!

    ReplyDelete
  3. You are just SO damn good....lovely poem

    ReplyDelete
  4. Hi Nila - too true ... "even in the unkempt, in the shady light - the rims of hope and grace are seldom watertight" ... yet thankfully they are there ... if we are aware, and very cautious we can be safe. All the best - Hilary

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Hi Hilary! They're there in every situation if we look close enough. Stay safe and well.

      Delete