Poem — Jan FitzGerald



this pouch of air, 
thatch of cloud,
tightly woven against a sky
loosely strung.
This swirl of wind 
is threaded to miracles.
In this scoop of heaven, 
time coddles echoes,
joggle of eggs,
shuffle of fledglings,
in its emptiness 
an inner life 
almost remembered – 
a straw, a bird,
making weather against the storms.


Jan FitzGerald

Tagged with: , ,
Posted in Poem
Subscribe to NZ Books
We're pleased you're using the New Zealand Books archive.

To ensure the survival of this important journal, please consider
subscribing — only $44 a year, or $30 for digital-only.

Go to the Subscribe page.
Search by category

Read more