Thursday

We Fly


The garland of plastic icicles
has yellowed to the colour
of old bones.

Less frozen water

and more the evidence of age
of lives lived

as if all our days

have compressed around the marrow
of joy and loss, fear and gain.

We are tough and brittle.
We walk and we fall and even 
without wings we fly.


With warm wishes for Christmas 2017 and the New Year