craobh ghaoil

I dream of a tree                   that breathes into hands


carves                   an earthen opera       from thumb kisses


I dream of a tree                   that trains the sparrow


nurses                   feathered eternities


demands no action


                                    but river spray.


Perhaps tree                   is       mother       daughter       lover


a soil-bound sun             warmed by the livingness


            of a human palm


plum and                   flowering plum


the heart stain             on its feathered cheek


and then             then


morning comes             like a small bird


with body secrets dangling                         from its       beak

Read more from Issue No. 32 or share on Twitter.