12th December 2021
Climbing hilltop meadow
Under a tall ship sky
Fleeted with far-voyaging clipper cirrus clouds,
A sea colours summer-light girl.
Near the gorse-gorgeous summit,
New wonders flooding her
Treacle those feet:
Stop, she must, off shoes, lie back,
And stare…
Eyes urged to not just look but see
Through the blue, into its beyond:
High flight indigo,
Where her soaring mind
Chooses to level out.
Here where
The everydirection horizon
Is a fallaway curve
She wonders, Do peregrines ever fly this high?
To see the more, the most? Or to only know for sure they could?
…
Because if cats could fly,
They’d reach this high:
Curiosity would make them have to.
She’s always thought peregrines,
With their such sharpened hunting,
Slicedrop pouncing,
Perfected gymnastic exuberance, superkiller beauty,
The most cat-like of birds.
So: which to prefer to be–?
Peregrine, or wildcat?
Whilst the ghastle of bloody hunting,
Ripping and toothing into raw for sustenance,
Repels her,
She’s sure that, were she either,
It would have no thought.
© Christopher Jessop 2021
