sings like - Elvis to the playground,
swinging on a little swing.
‘Danny’ posing in the mirror,
no one else as interesting.
‘Joseph’ rocking round the school hall
in the Christmas show.
Michael Jackson moonwalking,
fluid as a riverflow.
Thank god, he’s not found Bocelli,
sweet heartache;
- sure as eggs are eggs – that would be a smash.I walk on soggy
grass for a mile
to the waterfall
where, each year,
something of the ocean
swims upstream;
jumping out of wicked water,
lusting out of fullness into
grace and air:
settles and spawns
her mother’s moment
for the pull of a life
as I walk.
fruit’s attainable
…by waiting months…longing…
… non existent…present, small…
until up and ripe, tumultuous
and sappy, swollen, rustled, whispered,
waving crowns of treetop.
Worth the wait;
a mystery, round; and found.
Or instant in a supermarket:
hand-out-dosh, unpack
unshake
or lifted in a memory:
like clouds through waving leaves,
juice of a mountain, rainbow, star.
