Just then –
a subtle sound,
a turn of air.
Or a turn in my thoughts.
I catch things readjusted,
just so, although
I could have sworn to an arrival,
Quick, you know,
something like a hawk
threading a forest’s tangled boles
(only just),
And that swerve,
that bright verve
left its trace
here
and
here
in the stream’s clear lacing,
the pagan thrust of green;
green is the grass;
green are the leaves;
green is the seam
that starts in this,
just this
just now.
Just.
Serialisation of ‘Waiting for a Hunter’s Moon’ by Simon Smith (with permission). This book is published by and can be purchased from Cambria Books HERE
Thanks for reading Cambria Stories! Subscribe for free to receive new posts and support my work.
