Through the Window on the 3rd Floor

By Jonathan Taylor Davies

The skyline,
a stuttering pencil sketch of
flat bits
and
lumpy bits made of thumbprint smudges
and
all the rainbow bits which
were coloured in
by crayons
that I see in monochrome,
and all the monochrome bits
which I see in vivid cuts
of rare blue red,
and a single falling leaf
in its two-tone three-piece
orange brown suit is
the loudest voice in the sky today.

it is being chased by a bird
whose colours are
non-descript
and feathery,
a silent winged acorn
or a very small angel,
wings closed tight
against tight closed breast,
pursuing the leaf
as it spirals toward the ground,
undead and uncouth,
the autumn intruder.

the bird will never catch it
though the leaf moves slowly.

the sky will be blue
for four more hours
then the bird will roost
in the last blue corner of the sky
and the leaf,
mulch,
will not.

One thought on “Through the Window on the 3rd Floor

  1. This one I find very sharply etched in my head…A tightly focused snapshot.

    For me this is easily your best poem to date…you’ve ripped away all the potentially nebulous layers of philosophizing and pontificating and stamped a vibrant, dynamic image on my mind. You’ve also left any deeper undercurrents of meaning open to my own interpretation…that’s how it should be…well for me anyway! :0)

    Favourite lines:

    “a silent winged acorn
    or a very small angel”

    Like

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