A Pose, Caught in a Moment
Taken through the kitchen window while I was eating my breakfast this morning
What are moments for?
Moments: over and over they come, they
haunt us, we wait for them, race through them,
speak of them and waste far too many
at our peril. We should treat each one as
special and seize them, not speed them on their way.
Some hours we set apart, planning to be
happy in. But all moments are Earth’s murmurs
to be merry and be dreamy in
to be forever joyful, never mournful.
What can we live within but hours and minutes,
days and years? We must still extract each moment,
sense each one and mould it, stretch it out to
fit us. What form are they, these fragile fragments
of our lives, are they diamonds, squares or circles?
What shape is time? Where does it go? An answer
to those questions would bring God and all the
angels to claim us, flying over the
fields to carry us away on the wind
and in the briefest of moments we would
(Apologies to Philip Larkin)