Wednesday, 8 September 2010

alice oswald

Time Poem

now the sound of the trees is
and I'm still here
staring when I should be bathing
it's late, the bike's asleep on its feet.
the fields hang to the sun by
slackened lines...
when the grass breathes, things fall.
I saw
the luminous underneath of a moth.
and a blackbird
mouth to the glow of the hour in
who left the light on the step?
what is the pace of a glance?
the man at the wheel signs his speed
on the ringroad
right here in my reach, time is as
thick as stone
and as thin as a flying strand
it's night and somebody's
pushing his mower home
to the moon


Titus said...

Thanks swiss, don't know whether it's me, the change of season or synchronity but so many posts today seem to be telling me a similar thing.

Roxana said...

wonderful wonderful!

such simplicity and grace...

swiss said...

i'm so poor at keeping up with the bloggery these days i hadn;t noticed but i did see that i hadn;t posted any alice oswald which seemed a bit of an omission