a clear sky

you taught me a lot
and lit a fire in the snow

under the dovecote
a rook comes and goes

from a clear sky

and you sent me a photo
of a white candlestick

I keep on my wall
it reminds me often

of home

wind through grass

she sat there like an old lioness
presiding over her wounds

and when she told of the children she’d abandoned
some fifty years before
who’d turned out alright
I saw tears well up behind her eyes

take away that prop I thought
and the whole citadel comes down

the whole citadel
that I am reminded
houses the soul

then I remembered my own mother
her own props and evasions
and a sudden gust rippled my conscience
like wind through grass

that night I dreamt of a white horse
standing in a burnt-out barn
stranded and irrecoverable