A light wind ruffles the river poplars,
rousing me from daydreams of gold and green;
when it reaches here, the beech leaves shiver
then settle back to this season's regime
of warmth and silence and limitless time –
healing a body unused to this pace,
and with nothing to think of but how to find
more time to stow away in this place.
It moves through the woods, a secret spoken
by tree to tree, until it reaches the lane,
and from there, or thereabouts, half-woken,
a pigeon croons every now and again:
who? who is it? who-who, who is it?
who-who, who is it? who?

John FitzGerald’s latest book of poems, Darklight, with artwork by Dorothy Cross, was published by the Salvage Press in 2019

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