Poem 152: The November Stone

in the stonecutters cottage
listening in the silence
after the rain, sheltered
under the eaves
and the deeper
silence still when
the dripping stops.
all is naked ,
bone locked
warm alive ,
and secure.

there is a train
in the distance
heard not seen
sound travelling
travelling light.
she offers him
water and light
in her cupped hands.
he bends down
before her
crowned in her blood.
she smiles
and he drinks slowly.
the silhouette
of her body
is silently profiled
in the opening light
and dark
of the doorway
shadowed beyond belief.

the clouds
are forgiving
they part,
sunshine breaks through
there is fire
in the water
cold light
swims lazily
through the deep green
of the winter lake.