The Exultation of Larks

And what a stream is to the sound of water,

are larks to the air.

Their effervescence all around

as though life just discovered;

the intricacy of their trills,

far beyond the capabilities of any pianist’s fingers,

is exhilaration.

In the light and colour of a summer’s day like this,

far from vainglorious cities,

their song reaches deep into the soul,

finds the excitement that is our birthright,

draws it, shining, upward into our day:

life rediscovered

amid the exultation of larks.

The Walls Below The Mountain

The walls of old fields are everywhere,

walls that counted bones.

Feet dug into wet earth, knees bent, backs arched,

boulders raised to waist height;

carried to walls, walls growing, knees bent,

knees straightened, arms bent, arms straightened;

feet dug into wet earth, knees bent, backs arched,

boulders raised to waist height;

carried to walls, walls growing, knees bent,

knees straightened, arms bent, arms straightened.

Beneath the cling film of skin,

the clank-free movement of levers

and hillside cleared by slow degree;

in this way they daily hauled the sun from east to west.

The Day Passing

In the hospital,

Mary Byrne has not spoken

for almost three hours.

All afternoon she has been following

the progress of three rectangles of sunlight

over the floor and onto the walls of the ward;

her eyes flooded with swallowed past,

blank future,

pointless present.

Explaining Our Madness

A friend, contemplating the various madnesses of humanity during the week, mentioned the irony of governments paying people to save lives and kill simultaneously; only doctors save lives one by one, soldiers kill in thousands.

There is a short period in childhood when these ironies are questioned, I think this is the only time in which we can save our children from what we've perpetuated. From Sunfire...

 

   Growing Up           

Shortly you will trace lines,

leave,

join the herds,

leave a trail among the trails

meandering over the hills. 

We are part of some eccentric’s

geometry;

I wish I could tell you more,

my little love.