A MINUTE’S LICENCE

The house a tiny neighbour to the sky.
Nearness’ tendency built so high
on a peak’s open wings like
a lectern that splendour might read the dawning
the meridian the setting gospel of the day.

I go out into the yard. Waiting for me sparkling
with reins saddle harness is the horizon’s wild freedom
that I might mount and galloping tame its verification.
Ah, only gaze and vision managed to ride
this immaterial untamed conquest.
The heavens’ overweening views tumble are dashed
for the unhindered is of the briefest duration.

See how it catches on a stretch of barbed wire
round the property. Low, tame and yet
if you look carefully consider it carefully it divides
my good-morning from the neighbour’s
all day long fanaticising borders quietly arming
the weeds against their brothers.

At night alone the unifying fragrance of night flowers
cuts through it in places and passes
in the demented glow of the fireflies
– glowbums we called them when alive.

Oh, inglorious heroics by volunteer dreams. What’s the point
in encroaching on two inches more of moondust
inheritance left by the summer to its passing.

Let them observe  a minute’s licence
those few illiterate widow extensions
that the law doesn’t cover

though no one knows
what hope still holds in store for them.

Summer, Platanos-Aigialeia

A minute´s licence