Trilogy
THE WORM
The worm that tugs at leaf
inverts the blade of grass,
lengthens its coil, enriches the soil.
The earth’s weight bears upon it
like the gravity of its blind world.
Its wefting ways warp the velour of lawn.
Long-drawn bluntness gaining ground
in low-geared, segmented progress.
Indispensable, deliberate, tardy work:
aerating oceans of soil over aeons of time.
THE BLACKBIRD
On the lawn, the tar-feathered blackbird
surveys its territory with springy hops;
pauses spasmodically, listens to
its feather-brained instincts.
Swift as thought (a leap, a bound, a rush)
the thrush jabs its amber beak,
like a brimstone pointed arrow,
pecking and gashing at subterranean stirrings.
It pulls and reels, wrenching the worm
from its obscure socket with electric energy.
THE CAT
On the wall, mesmerised by the hubbub,
by the bobbing beak of the blackbird,
flattening its feline form, cat’s eyes
regard the scene with lethal patience.
In perfect poise, shifting its body weight,
padded paws set the mechanics of a spring
and with split-second timing, the mortal fell
stained with red the perfect blackness of a wing.
Later, the cat will saunter to the wall
and perch where the blackbird used to sing.
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