The Mind Archive

My mind is murmur-filled with perches For little lines of swallows Such as the squelchy day you caught that fish, Your mouth gone melon happy Sometimes I hear your feet Thudding up the path to an old house Its flowers long perished, Sonorous, then, with bees A laugh can whirl me round To a disappointment And then I sit and polish your photo-face Buffing it thin, As if behind the lens you still stand watching Could I lure you back with chants and incantations? Could I drop crumbs back to life Through the crunching years? Sometimes, memories break the dam of defences I'm flooded into the reeds, where Moses rocked No solace even there, the heron stalking A menacing steeple, raising his piercing beak The Winter air is dry, the loch gleams darkly Another dreary day drags darkly by.