To the New Year

To the New Year

You came in full of hope,

you’d been gathering it over the last few days,

chunks of optimism like sunshine

finding gaps between clouds.

 

You are an unexpected release from strapping

like a compressed bag of compost,

a tight plastic sack slit with a knife,

at first it holds its constrained shape

 

then it subsides, crumbles, unfurls itself,

hear it breathe as it expands

I put my hands in, feel new softness in the heart of it

its whispered promises.

 

What will we grow in this?

Everything is possible.

 

 

 

Clinging on

 Clinging on

I hadn’t even seen him

as I leaned into the shed,

 

put my hand on the lintel.

Then, a scratch on my hand

 

so feint I almost didn’t feel it

but I looked up.

 

A tiny fledgling swallow

a few weeks old

 

so light

but already slicked with indigo

 

a red smudge on his chin,

perched there

 

tiny claws like fine wires

cleaved to my finger.

 

He looked at me

I looked back at him.

 

A small silent moment

that early morning

in this big noisy bloody world.