I live under
the deep light of her eye.
A few have looked at me and wonder
but most gloss over me in the light of day.
Her skin is my privilege.
I'm a tiny hedgebird mear a highway's
insanely ordered traffic.
I reflect her in the whole of her health.
I measure her when she's sick.
I Thrive at the edge of her daring.
I share the names in her dreams.
I ripple and skip in her singing.
I see her dispensing her light.
I'll witness her ageing,
be with her when she's not
here anymore.
That's how I see it anyway.
Maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe I'll wither like a bit of skin,
drift off into a freckleheaven
purged of my original skin,
transfigured into that state of grace
I spend each moment of my tiny life
loving in her face.

Freckle
Brendan Kennelly

(foto MP)