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