Not a soul to be seen
Except for Hare, Blackbird,
Deer, Wren
and
Many
Many
Many birds, tits great and blue
Chiff chaff
Green woodpecker and mallards laugh
And I breathe into the rhythm of my steps
Not a sound of machines anymore
Not a trail in the sky
I am alone in a returned world
That has been waiting
Patiently
Squeezed out to the edges of dawn and dusk
Until now
Not a membrane betweeen me and
What is out there anymore,
My ears attune to bird song
A rustle in the still-frozen undergrowth
The thud of a fleeting deer’s footfall
The pad of my own feet
Touching the earth
Not a natural sound
Throbbing grows
Somewhere out there
An out-of-place van appears
Bright orange van of a scaffolding man
I cry a little sob of pity
Go home, my eyes plead
He drives past me
Not her
I come home to hear a friend has it
Caught it on pilgrimage
Now she endures her pain and fear and has no breath nor strength
A ripple of pity
Widening into love
Flows through me into her
And all of us
Her once strong legs are mine today
What do we love this world for?
Unless for the days when the magic
We love
Turns on us and
Challenges us to breathe in
Out
Stay with us
Are souls are being seen
Don’t go away
Nwyfre 