Tuesday, 2 April 2013

View from a Church Window


Today’s poem is an early poem albeit slightly revised. Having been partially deaf since  childhood, I possibly developed a perceptive inner ear at an early age. At the same time, I became increasingly aware of other people’s inner deafness.

Kissing Gate


There’s a thrill of blossom
on the old tree,
a greeny-white chirrup
of noise bouncing
gently, like a ball at play
in child hands

Every nuance of creation
about the old tree
tuned to perfection, you and me 
shaking our heads
at confetti coming down on us
like acid rain

A hymn to life,
such beauty!
Tiny wafers of noise
tongued lightly
at the kissing gate
over there…

Here, a dim view
of immortality as we pass
our seasons by,
grown deaf  to each leaf,
rarely (if ever) making time
to wonder why

Copyright R. N. Taber 1997; 2013

[Note: This poem has been slightly revised from an earlier version that appeared in several poetry magazines between 1997-2000 and an anthology, Changing Seasons, Poetry Today [Forward Press] 1998 and subsequently in  in 1st eds. of Love and Human Remains by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2001; 2nd (revised) e-edition in preparation.]

No comments :