Blocked Sun-view

Up by Boghead, the road to Strathaven:
a shadowed tree and more and crowds
of branches, leaves; a falling crow-
blue-cloud sent crushing down.
Mouse-eye glint of sunsoaked cars
wets my eyes where rain
is dry and spreading sky
cold announcing
over such a view
at sunset.
A burst rosehip
of sky
to owl-flown
night.

Old ten-year eyes redrawing what's been:
kestrels stand in sky and queue
for movement in this in-between
the window pane and blue
fading sight towards Kype Muir;
and now hiding light
will hunger their pursuit.
Feather branches
are now forty joists,
blood rafters,
ten feet away
before
the kestrels'
hunt.

Hiding light and bitter blocked sun-view
will sadden wing formed branches,
will quiet the life of mouse-glint eyes
and robins flying through
the space between this pale glass
and the roof now sized
above horizon-cold grass
blazing its red
reflection to me.
Sunset dead,
skull stolen
light, dark
now like coal
pits.

David McKelvie

If you've any comments on this poem, David McKelvie would be pleased to hear from you.