The Erne Rushes Through Me
A great clean flood to
rinse away
the whole of the tired, wicked
world.
A heron guards the
dreaming ivory gates,
my eyes have turned the
blue of damselfly;
red gilled perch and
silver trout,
swim through the
ventricles of my heart
and swallows rise from my
throat, stitching
my thoughts to the sky: it
is as if nothing
bad is happening anywhere:
as if
everything in the Garden
is lovely.
Beautiful, Moyra. Love the colour and imagery in the middle stanza.
ReplyDeletemarion