wherever you are, there I am, wherever I am, there
you are
I call out to you when I run through the underpass,
my words echoing back from the walls in the cold, still air.
And when I pass the quarry, I throw the same words
across the excavated chasm into a towering wall of
layered sand.
And again, as I cross the motorway, high above the traffic.
I let them ride the bitter wind rushing from the North
Downs.
And finally, heading home through Moorland Wood, I stop
and shout them to the tops of the spindly light-seeking
trees:
wherever you are, there I am, wherever I am, there you
are,
imagine them floating back down to me, through
sunlight
and shadow, like leaves yielding to autumn - gold, russet,
copper -
the colours you loved. And now they are like blessings.
Comments