The Shape of a Moment (after Pugh)
And Bo Peep is up now, shepherding
Her frail one-man flock to the jetty
As the sun breaks out from the bay,
Lighting blue eyes from behind the dark corners
Of his sockets. Waves strum in against the shore,
Rocking the boats with their mellifluous notes;
The trees glisten with newfound energy, swaying
In the warm summer breeze, their leaves shrugging off
The cold midnight dew. He remembers how
He used to plough the water with his father,
Trawling daily for silver souvenirs,
Each limpid eye coruscating in the light –
The shape of a moment. He gestures
Back towards the old white house, proud as it stands
On the edge of life.
