You say..

All we have is each other.

Enough to see us through.

That may be true.

 

But-

I saw a buzzard perch

Impossibly,

On the tip of a dead tree.

Smoothing his dishevelled feathers,

Watching with penetrating eyes.

 

And  I saw

a heron skirting the edge

of the river.

Nervously

Before etching elegant ‘m’s

Into the sky.

 

And that is why.

When you talk of you and me-

It’s the buzzard and the heron

That I think I can see.

 

By Fiona Lochhead April 2017

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