Carl Sandburg said: ‘Poetry is the achievement of the synthesis of hyacinths and biscuits.’.

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Hyacinths in Enamel Bowl

 

 There is more than a poem

in the gesture when you take my hand

cover it with your warmth

smile to my face.

 

We breathe in pink hyacinths

planted firmly by my daughter in the autumn

heady enough to seek out blindness

love winding with white roots.

 

Love too in the sparkle

in my son’s eyes, dancing brown,

as his long fingers reach for the biscuit tin.

How we entrust ourselves.

 

A woman holds her sleeping baby close,

as the sky lightens blue.

We being infinitely so much,

a poem can never be more.

 

 

 

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