Saturday, May 28, 2005

Late May Day

A fluttering
in the kid-skin
soft slither-thin
of a beech tree

alerts her
to a bird
in the branches
hanging over
the oak bench.

A grey
feathered fledgling
awkwardly flaps
to the pitted
tarmac and nestles

its downy breast
against a coping
stone border
of the oval green.
A cricket match
has just ended

and the bird's first
flight from its nest
into the unknown
traffic of a new
world view

begun. The creature
taking its bearings
from earth level

looking into
the depths
and complexity
of existence

anchors her
eye-line securely
on the confusion
life's nexus
of glimpses distills

across the freshly
stretched backdrop
of a silent dumb sky

offering no foothold
of slender wood poles
with which she can
measure her ascent
through understanding

up to God's hand.