Poem Twenty One: Ordinary, Extraordinary

Ordinary, extraordinary

Scent of summer rain 

on the river. What

we take we will remember,

secret notes on a secret river,

memory as long as the wind.

What’s yours is mine, 

what I remember I forget, 

the way your name sounds:

bells in the churchyard,

the fresh-faced wind.

What’s yours is mine.

Everything we are:

tiny spaces between the stars.

Collisions. Blind negotiations.

We are invisible incantations.

The clamour of the river’s 

slow dance 

to the sea.

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