Getting It Wrong Again
Some days are like that.
I just say the wrong thing, and,
you tell me, at the wrong time.
Or, I tell you, there’s no need
to be so impatient, why can’t you
hold back on the sarcasm. Some days
we are all sharp corners, dead-ends,
as if we have lost sight of the landscape
we have lived for twenty five years
which, of course, has not always been
meadows of cornflowers, and definitely
not a clear, straight road with low hedges.
I have always loved the air around mountains
and sea. Last year you realised why
you liked staying on Hillsboro Beach
so much: the expanse of Atlantic ocean,
the sky arcing over you from east to west,
how you felt you could lose yourself
in the stretch of both. Some days
it’s best to look ahead to the next,
resist swearing at the bumpy terrain
which appears in the rear-view mirror
sooner than we ever think it will.
Lynne Rees
Posted over on Applehouse Poetry
No comments:
Post a Comment