– 34 –

In Spring

The dogs are lying
in the sun
they abandon themselves to it.

The easterly won't stop
thrashing the blue sky
the wild trees
the disoriented birds.

I have been in pain
for days now
though you wouldn't know
it, it is hot and red
and cunning, I am a slave to it.

All this time alone
and concentrating. I wonder
where it is that you go
and why you won't return?

I stand aching
under the wide dark sky
amazed by the cold light
of the stars.
How frail we are.