news of the death of a child

(to be read both down and across)
the sky the colour of fish skin
before the winter storm your gaze
smudges rushes with emotion
broken lines of birds damp down
gather and grow formal
in the open grove to await
the first flurry that hymn of death
rises from the earth
the ghosts of children singing
in the wind cradle songs
numb the senses
the heart blank

No Comments