Gifts

Saphire, emerald, amethyst of
the magpie's feathers when
sunshine snags them. Otherwise
—as now in clouded, ordinary
light—plain black and white, the
head and neck pure soot or onyx.
These colours keep our eyes
alive, as if any short-lived,
intermittent pact between our
gaze and their flashfire amulets
might be near the heart of some
unspoken matter. Likewise, you
may catch the hidden redbreast's
small sweet voice, as if the
scarlet soul of the fuchsia were
singing in silence to itself, letting
itself be heard.

(for Sister Ruth Dowd)

Copyright © 2009 Eamon Grennan All rights reserved
from Inkwell
Reprinted by Verse Daily® with permission