IS THERE IN ESSENCE A TIME ...
Is there in essence a time that seeks to stride?
A need that whispers through the false acacias
In the cloister calm of this secluded cafe,
Laced with the clink of couples' glasses,
The breeze in silvered trees,
Nodding neighbours
And children playing on gravel paths.
Is there at work behind the manicured lawn,
The Private sign and undulating conversation -
A dynamic presence,
Pulsing like sunburning blood, speaking of
Desire on summer's first weekend?
Is there in essence a time that seeks to strive?
The summer storm brooding the sight of sun away,
The ochre messenger of light on ruddy rooves;
The shafts that gild the new green shoots
Buff the gold and copper spires.
Squalls that blow the day away
Trap shaking feathers in the warning wind,
Join the indigestive rumble of hill thunder as
Heads poke from the cafe windows:
Bronzed figures watching the blushing tiles and
Watching the light. Watching the light
Forever watching for the light.
