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The March poem


 

 


Gerard Rochford
Promise


When winter lashed our bedroom window
you said you would come back to me in the spring.
A blackbird heard you.

Well, the snowdrops are almost finished,
crocuses are erect and daffodils get prouder by the day.
Even the geese are returning, a ragged victory flight.
I have fresh coffee-beans. We will eat butteries.
What more could you want?

Your white bath-robe on the line flaps its wings
like a swan. Surely you can hear it, feel the breeze,
smell the clean air, see the trees are swelling.
Haven't you heard about the smart sun we're having
and the new shopping centre?

The rivers are rising with the melting snow,
birds are pairing off. So what keeps you?
I have ordered a dozen Rioja Gran Reserva.

© Gerard Rochford

 

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The holiday
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09.07.10-
02.08.10
No 282

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Next edition:
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