slowly spring

corona has left me
slow to think, slow to act
slow to write – a 50kg bag of grain
three times the weight is was before
and all the while the planet is hurtling
towards our own inevitability so much faster
than most of us can breathe through

and francesca the goat labours
through the bright sky night
second of september and perfectly on time
and i wait to the sound of frog song
and a silence that hums my ears
for the first inhale breath and bleat cry
affirmation of life tender as the blossom
that leans bare branch, unfurling fragile petals
despite or because of what is –

until impatient 5am under the star crazed sky
i walk out to the goat house.
first toad of the season, lean as winter,
crosses the path up ahead
my breath billows
dew bright in the torch beam
and slowly slowly it is spring

long chewing a quiet breakfast
francesca the goat raises
her head at my presence.
tomorrow she says,
or tomorrow’s tomorrow –
there is still time in the world
for slow beginnings

i waited a while in the goathouse
watched the steady rise and fall
of her abdomen, the sound
of their chewing shaping darkness into day
until the black rooster broke the spell
with his incessant crowing.

back in the house the kettle
metal clicks its warming on the flame –
fingers wrap around warm cups
and through the windows
the sky pinks and greys

there time in the world
for slow healing
slow beginnings
quiet endings
still time

---

for Brendan at Earthweal’s weeky challenge: SLOWNESS

https://earthweal.com/2021/08/30/earthweal-weekly-challenge-slowness/

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