Honour
Honour the great fallen wall that edged, in golden splendour, our coupling and three standing horses from Arabia. Honour these horses that stood breathing warm scented spring air beneath gumtree as I kneeled over fallen stump and you leant over teenage torso Honour the rising trees that blossomed in early November the month of the death, the month of the citrine and the month of Guy Fawkes. Honour we who turned the colour of the night from blue to black to golden-yellow and the stars above that swished back and forth as the wind stirred their constellations Honour the grasses, tall and green, stalking and reaching as though in Africa, hiding prey and predator, hiding our naked reason from the cars and their headlights that sped along the still warm road Honour the crickets that sung their own Mozart, their own Tosca and Suites of Phillip Glass, honour them for providing the chorus of our love making- the symphony of our own Red Rocks. Honour the first time that I fe...