a mathematics

Poetry Published April 15, 2011

because I have never been good with numbers
this thing seems to me like sunlight
on a loch between sheets of rain like
a ginger stepping down screes of flint
and ice like love or power

and if I were to turn it so the light fell
as on glass at dusk the thing that it would bring me
would be skeins of birds retiring for the year
dissolving slowly through a silence and the moon
returning emptily in darkness calling
softly for the sun

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