Walking the dogs in early Spring, Cockers alert to everything
Mum and son, So full of joy, so in love with life;
Their noses’ their eyes, if smell were colour:
this meadow would be Summer as they run rife.
For me, all is still asleep. Spring not yet reflecting any beauty or spark.
Trees, silhouettes on this dull morning. The only colour black birds against a sky dark.
Like the constant voice in the back of your head, I try to ignore the crows and their revolting jeer.
I am a lunatic, licking my wounds after a long night suffering the ides of March unbroken by sleep,
red eyes a reflection of sadness too deep.
Around a corner, through the gloom as if drawn by smell,
my face lights up, no longer in hell.
Mellow sunlight radiating from a warm golden tear;
Primroses, their beauty like the rising sun, bright and clear,
shining out as I draw near
Out of dark all in the palest of hues yellow and light a sign I can cope.
Not one, not a host but enough to bring hope.
I sit amongst them and reflect on a March many years past.
Ruby returns and sits by my side. We watch her offspring running free, carefree, endless energy.
She shifts her gaze and speaks with those eyes so knowing, so loving.
With a wet nose to a wet cheek I know-
“Dont give up, like the moon, its only a phase”.
21 March 2019 (full moon)
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