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Martin Hunter Jul 2011
There is just the two of us in this nest.
The world beyond is a fog, a dimly lit apparition.
It cannot intrude, though the threat is always present.
We, locked in embrace, hear the agony of the world
Filtered though the sounds of our hearts.
It is a distant music that mingles the cry of a baby,
A radio from the flat above, and the sounds of the street below.
We may hear it but we do not care to know it.

There is just the two of us in this nest.
Although small and contained, within us it spreads,
Like a blanket of stars on the night sky,
A universe of bliss that is greater than anything we can know.
We, locked in embrace, feel this inner universe expand
Filling every void in our lives, soothing every nerve ending
Within our trembling bodies. Someone might hear our moans
But, for us, absorbed within this moment, the world is deaf.

There is just the two of us in this nest.
The outside world will, soon enough, break this spell.
There will be a knock on the door, a phone will ring,
A debt collector will post a bill and stomp off.
Someone will throw a rock against the window pane.
We will, soon enough, relinquish this peaceful union
And join the chaos of the world we have tried to forget.
But for now, to hell with them all.  There is only the two of us.
Martin Hunter Jul 2011
A single bloom opened up
Too soon, at the early edge of spring
Too close to winter’s end.
I knew it would not last the night
A killing frost was on the way.
I could pick it now and seal its fate
Or leave it for the frost to take.
To die from plucking,
Or die by frost…..
Pluck it.

— The End —