Poem

There Is Always a Movement

There is always a moment
of complete silence before

a moment of absolute stillness.
No spoken word, no touch, no blink
of an unopened eye can disturb.

To Sirius
seen clearly in a long look across
the low hills, steely fence and locked gates, the cool evening
grass above Concord,
I commend the strength of the Dog Star’s light
and follow the brightness
to your opened eyes.
The silence breaks:
cricket song, screech of an owl, a train click-clacking far-off
towards Bangor or White River Junction.
You breathe and the sudden warmth
of your skin resuscitates my heart.