We can believe in miracles,
easy a day like this.
For five minutes at sunrise the sun
broke through, first time in weeks,
I took to mean arrival
and five minutes up
But it is
the year's shortest day
when anything can happen,
miracles 'not a problem'.
The sun five minutes with us
came and left with a kiss.
We believe in miracles. That, love,
is all we have.
Someone's bird, a green budgie, has come to stay
bringing its cage like any thoughtful guest
with a sleeping bag. I don't have a hook,
just the table. The neighbourhood cat sits
all day motionless outside the window,
consumed by a voluptuous despair;
sun loops about the sky like a child
on a swing going higher and higher
always half hoping to fall.
I have provided for creatures more grand,
more entitled to an evolutionary condescension,
more articulate as to tongues and vocal chords;
none said this before, that each time I open
and close the door, it is death, plain death,
I've been given to hold in my hand.
© JAAM 1996