Could you be a sparkle sea there beyond the water
Would the tree with flicker free tell the story to your daughter
These are the long horizons; the escape from now or being here
To wonder and wander, in our mind
Our thoughts rise then fall, then disappear
Yet that sunlight which bounces without of aim
It seems to find the breeze blown leaf
On its way across those many reflections
There to catch my eye, or to catch my past mischief
All the while some buzzing noise, a dizziness of sound
Around the turned down stature, all unfound where I concentrate
I look at the photograph and the bullets in the alabaster
That last bit simply is not true; I have been near no war
Never a prisoner, or a miner, or a student of Theodore
But I’ve seen the movies and I read Shevchenko after noon
Also I saw Craiglockhart; recreated with Owen and Sassoon
That day I took a photograph; of no more than
Just very big numbers, it’s true
Twenty million Russians died, for that to be my view
No wonder then that we wander, observe over the treetops dressed
Through the ginnels and the back passages
Past the orchard and the printing press
There is no stop to our search, for a door, open or otherwise
For therein wherein we are leant to enter
Could it be the sparkle sea
Clear water for the dolphin without a trace of trouble
Freed of all the frost of functional distemper
