Magpies

One Magpie.

She’s knifed,

Gutted,

Heart ripped out

And devoured.

Pecked at,

Grown back,

Ripped out again.

No eagle

For Promethean

Growth.

A magpie theft,

Stealing silver

And gold.

Golden age

Gone.

One magpie

Alights

To wound again.

 

Two Magpies.

They’re happy now.

Birds in flight

Together.

Bound by

Token

Offering.

Flight discharging

Winged wonder,

Bowing in the air,

Curtsy to earth.

Trajectory

Established,

Plumed to dark

And light.

Elevating,

Floating

Oblivious,

Tied.

My Weans

When my 20 year old daughter said she wanted a ‘family tree’ picture I thought she meant gathered around the Christmas tree. Nope. IN the apple tree! So we did. Down the garden, through the wet grass, up the tree. Not the adults. We’re not stupid! We loitered around the trunk.  My 24 year old daughter and 23 year old son started on their patter and my jaws ached from laughing. All my kids about me for Christmas. Sister and her three, brother, future son-in-law. Magical times. Fifteen gathered to eat, drink, chat, laugh and celebrate. And all to do again for New Year. I wouldn’t have it any other way. But I’ll be needing a holiday at the end of this.

To chat a while –

an hour

or ten –

and know you understand.

And in the understanding, know

that you are understood.

An implicit sort of knowing,

born of love’s connection.

Blessed,

Acceptance,

Joy,

Amazement,

Proud,

Privileged.

In awe.

These,

my own.

I am unworthy,

but not.

I must have had

something to do with

who they are,

how they are,

the wonder they are;

their personalities,

characters,

humour.

Thanksgiving,

we don’t have,

as some do.

But I have,

in measure fullest.

Blessed,

Acceptance,

Joy,

Amazement,

Proud,

Privileged.

In awe.

All twice.

And again

tomorrow

and every day hence.