948

’Twas Crisis—All the length had passed—
That dull—benumbing time
There is in Fever or Event—
And now the Chance had come—

The instant holding in its claw
The privilege to live
Or warrant to report the Soul
The other side the Grave.

The Muscles grappled as with leads
That would not let the Will—
The Spirit shook the Adamant—
But could not make it feel.

The Second poised—debated—shot—
Another had begun—
And simultaneously, a Soul
Escaped the House unseen—

bought for my house, have reconsidered, it will be for you.

a gift, alongside other gifts.                              look after it.

found in a fishing shop.  gentle hue,                  alongside

floats, and fish lures, now that is a wonderful

word.

over the road, the water man said all looked                 well,

so we glanced out at the muddy building                    mess.

they knocked down houses and trees                     you know.

driving home was all autumn and bluster.

i shall buy a pink ball for the house,

another time.

sbm.

note. there is no photograph.