Losing the light – Marconi Union
–
We fall from trees with grace.
Wrapping the air around us.
Invisible flares escape,
beauty in the nothing.
–
With skill we harness gravity.
Port de bras, passing branches.
Entrechat to gain velocity.
we learned this ages ago.
–
Slowing to contemplate metaphase.
I watch the steps.
You watch the degage.
And we carry on.
–
Making figures in the crepuscular rays,
We bow
where our coast meets the waves
and we reach the ground.
–
image: Mike Homnick
Seed pushed up, and slowly grown in
foreign storms, the winds of Mars, from a fallen oak
on the highest peak of Carroke Point. Altitudes
a different sort. I scaled the eastern face,
felt the breath of death and toppled on the
small plateau. The Peak.
A puff of whipped cream at my feet. The cloud.
The clean. The seed. A different breed.
A closer look reveals shadow pupped corrugated
leaves. Interesting. What could it mean? The
wind recedes. I walked around and surveyed the
scene. Serene. The sediment at my feet,
rusted iron filings, chipped granite and peat. Definitely
unique. How did I…
