So many pleasant distractions:
The long-game, slow motion
Winter-flake firework spectacular;
The startled blackbird cock
Erupting from bridleway hoofprint …
The witch-finger icicles
Depending from cathedral gargoyles.
Now, white time presses –
That which was innocence before –
Now crowds us, impatiently, brutally;
Demanding answer without
Grace to think upon the puzzle:
Should we trust the
Glass falsehood that
Was yesterday’s road?
This cold savagery blinds us
In more ways than we can see;
It was purity, now it’s jealousy.
We looked to it for enlightenment
But found only intolerance’