so long so longsince i have been heredipping into this icy lake uncoloured morningslippered and blanket wrappedfor the cold coldthat sits at the base of the spine where the donkey was nail beat years agoon a red dust road in the sunmake-shift harnessed to a scrap cartgoing nowhere same low curve back where the needleswere…
some mornings i find myself on my knees, seep wet to the night’s rain, attending the birth of a goat – the world for a moment still as first feet then nose push unmoving to the waiting world – an inanimate pause while the mother strains, then head and body slippery and warm struggling…
out at the goats fixing the fence by torchlight while they watch, chewing thoughtful – shaggy and heavy with lamb. between trees walking home the sky is black with stars. there is no need for lights our feet know the way, step carefully along the billowing clouds of the milkyway.