Thursday, 6 November 2014

Letter from your Hummingbird Gene Barry

Letter from your Hummingbird

My darling,
for now
I will downstroke,
retire migrations as
my figure eights are no more;
gone south you could say.

Here there are no continents,
seasons have melted into one
and I have new beds to make Paula,
futures to construct,
childhoods to sow.

I’ve build this house for you,
attrition filters installed,
only white cars in the drive and
a room where ceremonies
dance all nights and days,
teaching sorrow the steps of laughter,
pain the rhythm of closure.

Healing is readily on tap,
bereavement fills every grate,
and safety, safety
blankets every bed
and ambush has run into retirement.

Love is hungry Kieran, not trodden
and on this farm you and I
will reap our past,
chew the cud
of missed opportunities,
swing and slide into
resurrected childhood parties
and graduations.

After all, it’s only a long wait.


©Gene Barry

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