Skin of my fingertips
And cells from my palms
burn away.
My matter transmuted,
Holding resonant feelings
and dervishing thoughts.
(this random capture
amidst a repeating dance.)
Particles and once wheeling clay
arrested now,
moments stilled and held.

NOW THIS is definite:

These trembled heartsongs,
innocence and experience,
and the eye’s ravishings
here suspended as white flags
abutting the wailing siren
of worldscape.

Here are keen arrows,
sounding the angelus
where fish shimmy and moss quickens.
Joy chosen for fierce dedication,
And holding in the heart’s retort.

And here blow air and light,
spun in this rare shelter
where pools may yet be clean
And the growth of green
even so, abounds.

Katherine Glenday 13 July 2003