Tuesday, April 16, 2013

FLAMBOROUGH, LIGHTHAVEN

The huge window connects you
with land and sky,
a stretch of still dry winter grass
and trees and shrubs until
the horizon and the sea behind,
a picture of waving lines
settled in their own flourish
in widespread permanence
with clouds that are
present as a wholeness behind the glass
claiming most space ( it’s their right),
claiming and obtaining wholeness,
the picture of a staring breath,
what you find yourself staring at
with no particular plan in mind,
with no purpose for once, nothing
to forward or realize,
you are just mutely drawn into the stare
and you stand and watch over there
the fat woodpigeons, two alert deer
and some cruising wild geese,
the moment’s lease,
the space where this is what comes to pass
behind a frame of double-glazed glass,
a further pageant you have come across,
the world transiting in transfixing nonchalance
with you and me, the living and the dead,
transiting too, in thread after thread..
and all the rest goes unsaid.

1 comment:

Dave King said...

A poem whose lines and phrases revealed themselves graphically as I read. Take, for instance:

claiming and obtaining wholeness,
the picture of a staring breath,