The Blackbird of Glanmore
On the grass when I arrive,
Filling the stillness with
life,
But ready to scare off
At the very first wrong
move,
In the ivy when I leave,
It's you, blackbird, I love.
I park, pause, take heed.
Breathe. Just breathe and
sit
And lines I once translated
Come back: 'I want away
To the house of death, to my
father
Under the low clay roof.'
And I think of one gone to
him,
A little stillness dancer -
Haunter-son, lost brother -
Cavorting through the yard,
So glad to see me home,
My homesick first term over.
And think of a neighbour's
words
Long after the accident;
'Yon bird on the shed roof,
Up on the ridge for weeks -
I said nothing at the time
But I never liked yon bird'
The automatic lock
Clunks shut, the blackbird's
panic
Is shortlived, for a second
I've a bird's eye view of
myself,
A shadow on raked gravel
In front of my house of
life.
Hedge-hop, I am absolute
For you, your ready
talkback,
Your each stand-offish comeback,
Your picky, nervy goldbeak -
On the grass when I arrive,
In the ivy when I leave.
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