English poetry

Poems in English

The plane and the blackbird

a cold bright sun
Two days to christmas
A first-quarter moon
At a good vantage-point

A small white coffin
Driven slowly uphill
From the cemetery gate
To the minimal grave

Fifty people attending
Unexpected collection
Of nettle-stung hearts
At a barely-lived dying

A shuffling past yews
Thoughts finding rhythm
A lightness that bred
From a silent aceptance

A red-arrowed plane
In single formation
Scissored the sky’s blue
Above the procession

Sagittarian arrow
A sizzling of fire
An unconscious dipping
Of wings in salute

To a baby whose burning
From birth to departing
Took thirteen fast days
From rain into sunshine

Till almost the hilltop
The hole with its mound
A circle of people
Shared its raw hollow

No vicar no service
A speaking of poems
Cotoneaster sprigs
Dropped into the grave

The red plane returned
Cut its own circle
Honoured the sunlight
And passed by the moon

From a treetop nearby
A sharp-singing blackbird
Trilled its objective
Gold-beaked lullay

The grave was filled in
The high hill deserted
And down in the valley
A rare christmas came

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Poem The plane and the blackbird - Rg Gregory