Caw

Hearing the trickling, stuttering, crickle-crackle magpie

I saw you

Arranging a twig by your feet

Before leaving

Flapping to a further tree.

Where from the farthest reach of your invisible eye

your brother or sister or lover or mother

Gently clapped through the branches to a present perch

Had I dreamed I was up there?

The neighbouring weave of branches,

All ready in your eye

Your relation joined.



Mourning Practice

I thought (no longer fond of thought)

to visualise my mother and father.

Finding myself surprised

there they were on the other side 

of the kitchen table. 

I haven’t spoken about it much yet.

Certainly not to them.

I looked a little closer to see 

how they were doing.

I was afraid.

I drink my coffee.

I’ll go shopping.

Not a whim, it was pre-arranged.