The Warmth And The Dance

You should be polite
About things unseen
Never collaborating with the negative view
That you will disappear
To be forgotten
Like birdsong
In winter- Final
Create the time
To salute where you are from
the great cities
The holes in the roof
Where light and water floods
And you can swim
Into the song
Shielding the flow of vision
But now there is a language
A difficult grasp
Where the bath of air comes
The steady beat
Keeping the time
Against the natural flow
Of circulating melody
And the dance of wings
Create the dimensions
That cause ships to sink
And men to lean
Where will the future echo?
Is it a number or a colour?
Poetry designed by rhythm
Ash floats to your field
And the colour is grey
Speck against speck
Taken to the corners
Orchards and battlefields
Broken manners and accents of home
Remember the Russian artist
Lovers stranded in Portugal
Painting scenes of markets in Minho
Don't for one minute think
Do it for a lifetime
Joy is a sense
A difficult storm of snow
Clouding doubt
And playing with words
But where is the collaborator
The male dancer
Straight or soft sitting at type writer
Bow in hand needing viola
Industry pours from hands so tough
Muscles chiselled into marble chipped
Photographs captured
By a girl in London
We remember you in scarf
The flower grew out of respect
A need to show kindness to the sun
Until the rain tore at the clothes
And the church stood it's ground
As all with faith do
The throat was cleared
And ships all sailed
Muddy boots and lit cigarettes
Where have you been
For realisations to grow
Like a nest of mice
In the roof of your head
Tiles with moss
Chickens at your feet
No particular favourite season
Just a real need to be there
Knowing there is pleasure in growing
In never forgetting
The things unseen
The warmth and the dance
And maybe one day you will be cast in bronze