The Sway of the Branch

you taught me

the colours of birdsong

how a blackbird

can sing the morning sky

bluer than a dunnock’s egg

~ ~ ~

I feel your smile

at the corners

of my mouth…

the sway of the branch

when the robin has flown

~~~

hours before you died

your heartbeat against my ear…

nothing is certain

when the mountains

gather mist

~~~

as if the storm

had never passed

thirty years later

cold rain at my window

and still you don’t return

~~~

at rest

the butterfly tilts its wings

against the breeze…

a subtle shift in the light

the way you brushed my hair

~~~

making my way

from the tangle of a dream…

is that your voice?

all at once the forest path

is strewn with spring flowers

~~~

 

In memory of my father:

Eric James Price

8/4/1930 – 12/1/1981

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