Leaning On Anthracite Skies Poem by Michele Vassal

I realise now, that the limitations were not yours
but mine. Whilst you were holding the earth
in cupped hands, the children faded into adults
the soft under-layer of laughter and padded dreams
seldom visible now, under their new exoskeleton. 
I leaned on winter, on flayed trees licked to the bone by
a goat of a wind, and when the spun sugar of the almond
orchard, infused the air with suggestions of marzipan
I wished for the Autan to heave from the South
for its spoor to singe the pale uncurling buds
and the animals came to us from the woods
and the woods took them back and I leaned on loss
on anthracite skies, to hollow out my days
whilst you were holding the earth in cupped hands.