You say..

All we have is each other.

Enough to see us through.

That may be true.



I saw a buzzard perch


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.


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