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

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