Maybe it’s drama I’m thinking of,
where events rumble towards
some half anticipated dilemma,

before resolution emerges from
changed hearts illuminated by
an arithmetic of revealed notions.

Poetry has less space, mostly, to
tug emotions and take us through
clouds and controversy to an edge.

This poem ends where day begins,
with blue skies and the rising sun,
a familiarity which is always new.


Tony Noon