as together we strolled across the field.
And unplanned, as we descended the lush green slope,
my telling you of my innermost savagery, and you, me,
of your jealousy and possessiveness.
And sensitive and lovely, when passing beneath the trees,
you made room for the infirm: Those men who,
in their frailty, in the twilight, and with their sticks,
struggled to the summit of the gentle slope.
How at peace they seemed, together, and grateful for your kindness.
And what of Jake who kept us waiting?
I thought of Shelley as you talked, cremated;
and told you of what Scotland means to me.
You were much too lovely to be "eaten".
And how appropriate: in those moments, in that place,
and at that hour,
that our thoughts were of life - and death.
__________
© Cormac McCloskey
Some changes in respect of punctuation have been made to this poem, and the word "me" has been added to line four, to make it clear that an exchange of views is taking place at this point. Cormac 16th February 2011
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