At Winter’s end
In lows of March
A friend said: watch the crows
It’s fanciful, he said
But wise, and came from one who knows.
Far below the nest
that swayed, I wandered
With streaming eyes to field beyond
Where two dark shapes
Carved the air on frozen pond.
Mere hair’s width from the icy death
A swooping, chasing joy
A courtship rash and bold their only care
Pulled upwards to the virgin moon
In winds that to a human bring despair
The tears within my eyes
Bled no emotion, save of chill
The precision of their love against the icy sky
A perfect union in pursuit of which
I find my head and heart of words run dry
Later, as the darkness
Gathered frozen black in Winter’s arms
I watched the rocking of the nests that must
In our tall trees
And relearned all I thought I knew of trust.
Be here, be welcome warm
Enduring crows in love
For one proud gaze, sliced into time
You had the whole of me
And only breathing took your flight from mine
Stephen Tanham is a director of the Silent Eye School of Consciousness, a not-for-profit organisation that helps people find the reality and essence of their existence via home-based, low-cost and supervised correspondence courses.
His personal blog, Sun in Gemini, is at stevetanham.wordpress.com