swarm

When again it comes buzzing round
remember this: the still centre
when at last your legs stopped twitching
and your mouth moving and your mind
was quiet. The measuring
of the taut outline of a life
lived by trees that roared like beasts
and you felt safe in them
and all of them inside you
solid like a circle of gold in a grave
and still. Hold it
there. Keep it. The swarm will come
soon enough to take it.
Walk through the beams of the taming lights.
Do not look round. 

Songs From The Blue River, 2018