by Chris Kinsey
(For Glenda Beagan)
(Published in Cure For a Crooked Smile by Chris Kinsey, Ragged Raven Press 2009.)
Even the lightest feet churn
this rain whipped earth.
The Severn swirls brown from
too much run-off. I think of how
you’d like to climb Twt Hill and watch the Clwyd.
Evening’s black-brown birds
would be your delight:
two dippers barrel over the rapids,
blackbirds squabble for roosts
and a moorhen’s wake
makes a vee at a day where
the sun can’t be bothered to set.
As wrens flit nets of dead goosegrass
and the tangle of brambles,
I sense you most, limed by love,
calming the agitations of a mind
flapping free of memory
as you struggle to help
in that panicky zone
between standing and sitting.
Your caring gives no vent
to a clamour like these birds –
all outrage and fierce cries.
your songs keep sweet notes.