singer in the cemetery

your voice is inspiration beyond words,

insistent, repeated, urgent.

i stand among the gravestones

trying to see you but cannot –

that yew conceals you too well.

under the yew, beyond the railings,

people walk, run, ride bikes, carry children,

push prams, lead dogs and chatter to each other

or to their phones – not one of them

seems to hear you – yet you are no illusion!

your ringing, subtle, complex, astounding notes resound –

and suddenly you appear, fly to a sapling ash,

continue your song above me, as i wonder

how can a small thrush

sing so rich and loud

of invisible worlds of being?

i can’t leave this spot, i am transfixed –

your song says i live, i live, i am alive,

now, now, now, in this time!

and that ‘now’ is all i need.