Gill Horitz
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Living Signs
I begin to think of a door
half open on the unlived years
already coming in. Dawns
beginning earlier and earlier
and more welcome than before.
A brilliance fills the bedside glass
half full the more I look this spring
and things appear never before seen
or heard. Something is going on
with time. A small thud in my chest
going hurry, hurry.
I thought I was grown up
but now I expect more
from the way my mind
reassembles living signs.
Colours, folds in nature,
an ordinary lapwing.
Published in Ink Swear and Tears