Left Herself
Gulls, white, in the gather-gloom
circle and shriek,
Steady her on outstretched wings,
Even higher, she sees them,
Calling in the dream,
Feels the wind in her face
as tears of joy,
She has left the others
and herself,
Marvels through vacant cloud,
High journey is beautiful
behind closed eyes,
It is this dream that cradles,
Awake in veil sleep,
Earthly in the armchair,
Does that move, too?
Gulls are far below now,
Disorganised in order flight,
Flecks as birds that once tussled
over scraps on ragged lawn,
Long before the song began,
This living dream is exquisite,
And endures even in
Heaven’s lofty blue.
© Michael Garrad May 2010
Coalman
Black,
Skin black,
Streak black,
Sweat congealed,
Eyes peer through
mask face,
Cap black,
Shined by sack, black,
From cart to bin,
Chunk-coal
thunders into
hungry abyss,
White teeth
pierce black,
Shroud of black,
Smile warms
this bitter day
as flames
gorge precious fuel.
More snow,
White on black,
He will be back,
Thank God!
© Michael Garrad April 2010
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