wind

Kintsugi

 

hold the wind in my arms

ghost trees toss

their shrouds of

pale cloth

while wave-feathers trail

white-peacock fringes

behind surges

irreparable

over rocks

as my tin-can heart

soaks up

songs from

half-forgotten harmonicas

I’m poised

a broken-bevel jewel

seeking kintsugi

to gild old scars

 

 

kintsugi is the Japanese art of mending broken pottery with strands of gold lacquer

Photo:  Claire Doble

Lessons

 

I learnt permanence from the beach

the way the sand never shifted

and the dunes stood still

a dead spike-backed fish

forever there, the arcs of tides

ancient and fixed

 

I learnt love from the sea

constant, predictable

ever reliable

turn your back, nothing happens

risk free

and the rocks, so orderly

 

I learnt life from the wind

always that solid blue

careful, unchanged

no cloud-claw wisps

nor breeze-tossed leaf

to mar my view

fishing line

listen to the wind

restless, tepid, tossed free

the babble of summer parties

floats by

I

throw myself like a fishing line

into darkness and back, back

in time to back-lane bins and jasmine

scented evenings

encasing friends

warm drunkeness

bottoms dimpled by

milk crate imprints and the tiny

gravel of old cement

crumbing bare feet

swished aside

long cotton skirts

eyes glance up

that window high

mine

that window high

eyes glance up

long cotton skirts

swished aside

crumbing bare feet

gravel of old cement

milk crate imprints and tiny

bottoms dimpled by

warm drunkenness

encasing friends

scented evenings

in time to back-lane bins and jasmine

into darkness and back, back

throw myself like a fishing line

I

float by

the babble of summer parties

restless, tepid, tossed free

listen to the wind

 

 

Photo: https://unsplash.com/@ross_sokolovski