Between Poem by Seamus O' Brian

a silent impulse fires
buried in folds of living
soil, traces its path
of energy like
telephones wires humming
in a winter breeze;
fishing line taut with
frantic fear pierced;
a path of living fire
flowing through muscle
untensed, muscle waiting
for its moment
to heed the impulse
when the anvil is struck-
just so, in this very spot.

A million crowded
steeds, bunched at the gate
necks arched with strain,
sweat glistening sunlight
reflecting from furrows
and chords of muscles
tightened and waiting
for the bell.
There! Hammer strikes anvil,
Impulse finds destiny
and a million stallions
released to surge their
corpuscular strength through
walls of living muscle,
driving, vortex thrusting
a quarter cup of liquid life
to hungry orifices waiting.

Tide slackens, levees
collapse, tent walls
billow in a lazy breeze.
Silent trickling inflow,
gentle tide rising, the impulse
vacant, but gathering itself
once more.

The rhythm of the sea,
the pause between strokes of the
waves upon the shore, so much
life- scrabbling of crabs,
settling of tiny clams,
rushing feet of mouse-like birds,
shore-scurrying, wave watching-
so much life happens
between the waves of the sea.

Mortgage signing, splintered toe
kissing, hands finding each other
in the dark across the cool,
vacant spaces of a comforter,
watching a child- too soon- stuff
the essentials of life into forty inches
of suitcase-
ahhh.....so much life happens
between the beats of a heart.