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Alan McClure Feb 2011
A swan splits the stillness of the old mill pond
in the long low light of morning
White frost has settled on the bank behind
and on a figure who is sitting
head held in his hands

He looks at the moon as it fades away
from silver into nothing
His breath hangs like mist around his old grey head
and his cloudy eyes aren't blinking

And he can't recall how he got here
or the world he left behind
and his tracks in the grass they are fading fast
from the ground and from his mind

His feet are in slippers and an old bath-robe
is hanging round his shoulders
His cheeks they are flushed as if he's safe and warm
though he couldn't be much colder
fading away

He may look foolish but he is no fool
for coming here today
For the cold grey bank becomes a time-machine
and the years just fall away
fall away

Annabel, the sun shines just for you
This moment here will make the year come true
And I can't believe my eyes
when you turn to me and smile
you take my breath away, that's what you do
In this gold, this gold
this golden afternoon

Now you strip and slip through the ripples of the old mill pond
And you laugh at the fact of the scandal in the town beyond
But if they could only see the way you laugh and look at me today
They'd be caught in the moment like you'd waved a magic wand
Oh Annabel my love


His son and his daughter are the first to hear
and they think it is a kindness
Long gone was the father they had known and loved
and this living loss they'd witnessed
Now they can rest

The men from the council say the pond must go
and they fill it in that winter
But ears to the ground you can still hear the sound
of a young man and his lover
as they laugh and swim together
in the golden summer weather
the way
they will stay
forever.
Alan McClure Jan 2011
"You know,
I used to ask myself the same questions,"
said the old man
with a smile.
Alan McClure Jan 2011
A scientist
on TV
was watching an abandoned bear cub
search for its mother.

The scientist knew
where the cub's mother was.

"I'm not sure
how much I should intervene,"
he agonised,
"or whether I should just
let Nature take its course."

As if
his kindest instincts
and his burning desire
and ability to help
were not some of Nature's
most glorious bits of work.
Alan McClure Jan 2011
No-one told the snowdrops
that the world is coming to an end
that there is no sense in trying anymore
that darkness has finally defeated the light

And ignorant of the truth
they push once more
through the mould and grit
raising their heads above ground

Stopping me in my tracks.

Oh yes!  Things used to live here!
The wan Scottish sun used to warm us
and the endless pounding rain slaked thirst
and pumped like blood into new life and hope.
How did we forget?

And they change everything.
They change everything.
They return the world to the state they need it to be in,
they are nodding heralds of the coming supernova

which will happen
with us
or
without us.
- From Also Available Free
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