the epifany

i met a woman 
blood on her thighs 
fire in her eyes  
she carried 
a knife and a stone 
by the sacred lake
lough gur. 

was it a dream  
did she come my world 
or i to hers?
i cannot tell,

i am maybe, 
of the cosmos,
when i care 
for my dreams 
the cosmos cares.... 
a knife from the stone
that sharpens the knife 
and womans 
blood flows freely 
with the moon.

fall in victoria

clocks fell back one slot today
sun is now descending and
water at willows is serious
in ripples and gun ship grey.

dogs banned for the summer
off leashed again on the beach
and a little girl in a pink coat
laughing mad plays with a puppy.

her grandparents sporting poppies
on lapels of winter jackets
black and red of hole and blood
remembering a day in june,

twenty thousand
killed for cousin kings.
passing-on the air bites crisp
this unusually cold snap,

victoria, which victories
a hundred  years ago today
deserve commemoration? 

pals from mills and mines
dying on the hardening mud
for gentlemen and liberty.

turning home into the sun
watching the little girl kick and cry
her granddad is embarrassed

he cannot know
i understand,
and she
cannot yet
fit freedom
in a minivan.