Oh I wish they
Wouldn’t sing at
Night, the birds,
When my chest
Is tight and the
Road to Day is
Spiked with dreams
That cannot be
Seen in light of bird
Noise, rogue
Dawn speech strayed
Off the sun.
Please sit quiet
On your branch
And wait, if sleep
Is too heavy for the
Light state of a
January that knows
No snow but isn’t
Spring.
Blossom is already
Breaking the tired grey,
Confused from lack
Of sleep because
Autumn forgot to turn
All the lights off and
Let the heating run all
Night.
A person and a penguin , in conversation
Person:
‘Accessories are what it’s all about –
Hats, scarves, bangles worn over gloves,
Keeping warm in the snow, nothing
Else counts when you’re cold and wet too –
Suddenly life contracts to a quick pulse
In the chest, trying to beat Frost and reach
Hands and feet first.
Penguin:
Keep the shuffle going, to and fro,
Across the glacier, here
And there a slide and skate
Punctuated with the odd skid
And backwards swirl, churning
The blood through warm wings or,
As we call them, waistcoat fins.
Person:
‘Where are we going in all
This white, what paths shall
We black when all previous
Tracks are under four metres of
Soft silence and the only clues
are foxing paths deviating on
a scent we’ll never crack?
Penguin:
Why ask where we are going?
There is no direction
To go in because we are
Home, our feet make it
Newly, every step
into top snow .
Person:
‘Don’t you ever ponder,
One day, ice gone,
you’ll be swimming Through
to Death or simply,
wait for Life to
Pass, from the last
Raft of rock?
Penguin:
‘And what does it matter?
I feel my egg between our
Feet and know to protect
And honour –
Our pact – we three:
Her, egg and me.’
Another conversation, same person, same penguin
Person:
What use is breeding? One
More penguin when there
Are thousands
Picking fights to
Get to the inside.’
Penguin:
Who are you to ask why?
You have over engineered
Your brain so that
No fuel is compatible and it
Eats itself for food.’
Person:
‘Still, must be more to Life than
Eggs that may
Never survive and hatched,
What will it do? Make more
Eggs like you?
Penguin:
Better that than
Unhappy with what
I have, thirsty for what
I haven’t need, hungry
For what I’ve just gorged on.
The ice is melting
And we’re all on it –
Melting it more
In the warmth of shared space – nothing
More, nothing less.
Reality abides with us,
Quietly, no fuss at the fading snow.
Being Every Day 