Well, first of all – Happy New Year! And that’s an order! Apparently, though, the devious Australians have already started the new year and the Japanese followed. This is intolerable – some people are in 2011 and others are in 2012! Now the poem that follows has nothing to do with a new year, so that’s all right.
The glass creation on the shelf
In the early morning light refracts, transmutes
The arriving light into changing colours and links
That fade and reform with the slightest of gentle shifts.
If you try to see through it the waving winter trees
The dirty yellow brick of the disused hospital
Or the unseasonal swallow swooping, veering,
You will not see them as they know themselves
Or as you saw them when you came to the room.
But the glass is not what it would be in the dark
Or the pale consistent glow of the strip lighting
And if you shut your eyes to be blind and handle it
Like a dying sculptor in clay discovering shape
You will see a different thing and the swallow will be in the dark
And the light will be working in ways you do not sense.