In her final weeks
at Donnington House
my mother slept away
her visitors
fallen into pain
& through with it all
we waited
freighted with love
unconditional.
I was left
with the window
gazing west over
grey gull-flecked clouds
the black nail’s head
of peregrine
slicing air
bullying his world
the garden
short back & sides
an arrangement
my father would have liked-
one in the eye for chaos
easy to see
the stretch of a life
from here
a life measured
in lovers or dogs
meaning no more
than we mean it
to mean.
Powerful and evocative.