how much of these reels remain
stretched so long in our wake
we lose the golden threads in twilight
catching only rare glints
snagged by sunset
strung over hills hazed by evening mist
that fogs the vales we negotiated
through ill-lit phases of many moons
when we lay awake
each hearing lone minutes unspool

we cannot prevent this cord running out
but have we enough in hand
to interweave these unspent lines
and create our finest tapestry


CLP 20/09/2021


Comments are closed.