NeuroDivine

The rooks behind the houses call
in tones both spare and grey;
the jackdaws answer once, then fall
to silence as they stay.

House martins trace a single line
across the paling air,
their movements small, almost divine,
a quiet form of prayer.

The ducks keep hidden in the reeds
where dusk is folded tight;
their absence suits the cloistered needs
of this descending light.

The children’s voices on the bank
grow faint, then fade away;
the drawbridge hums in rhythms blank
as cars pass in their sway.

The viaduct above the town
lets fall one distant roar—
a brief, austere, metallic crown
that soon is heard no more.

And I, one soul at peace alone,
while waiting for my mate,
sit by the canal’s dimming stone
and let the evening wait.

Written as I waited on the banks of the Grand Canal, for Andrew, who was walking further.

An image inspired by this poem can be seen at ReceivedLight.