RETURN VISIT

I see the Past
happen before my eyes

( here a not too bright
Cabbage White )

hides among the coal

my sister’s laugh

decorating a June night
so bright it’s almost light

my mother’s hands blue with cold
singing to her washing

the graceful notes
freeze as they leave her lips

birds like staff notation
sketching the gist of the tune

on telegraph wires
every now and then

moving up & down
a note

us in Spring
spinning ‘round ‘n’ ‘round

falling dizzy
to the ground

feeling like we’re falling
off the earth

pinning ourselves
to the ground

with sheer will power

as the blue sky
washes over us

&  our senses
drown

memories
scattered upon

the sands of time

like seashells
clutched in children’s hands.