'Light Thickens' Poem by Marty McKenna

light thickens.

i know this because i watch it
from the edge of darkness;
chill is hidden in the pockets of wind
as the frozen skeleton march
is leafless up the surreal hill, just behind the
converted asylum. the props department
have been at it again, minutes ahead of me;
smouldering sinks sit stout
on the side of the road as i watch
one for sorrow lift wings in air
and perch over squirrel, fox, crow.

my shoulder to the boulder growing ever older;
in the thickening of cloud i settle an eye
on the attractive flight and fluster
of swallows, alight above
the call and response
of smaller things.

it's getting harder and harder to breathe
as wave after wave they inhale their fill.

first published in 'bindweed'
appeared in the chapbook 'gently but a deream'