THE GIVEN MOMENT
-
Seán Street (U.K.)
i
Crows in the high beech
watch August pass in late air
as we hope for grace
but if/when we reach morning
it will not be when but if
ii
A predestined thing
when words fall into a poem’s line
each new gift given
Colour is matter striving
to become light through glass
iii
A gull between trees
one blue sky intensity
two epiphanies
and the box of a poem
too paltry to contain them.
iv
As the full moon moved
behind the rooftops you called
me - had you
not then
how could I have watched darkness
take empty streets out of sight
v
The garden - autumn
and here the obsidian
Buddha you gave me
with only the wood smoke’s scent
spelling the weary word Time
vi
A single leaf fell
as a thread once
while sewing
from a mother’s hand
everywhere given
moments
at any given moment