a walk around the cricket pitch

a walk around the cricket pitch. pic for poem

 

on and on the breath, in columns, goes

onwards as if marching to roam

beyond far walls and more beyonds  than an Irish spell

and in the margins crickets make their chirrups

of beating wings but I hear only silence and solemn air

and my wife is exasperated that I cannot hear them

as their agitation is all around,  so she tuts,

making her own boundary wall of sound to admonish me

for my deafness to the cricket’s pitch

and I wonder as we perambulate whether

I am lacking in other ways and whether

monogamy is all they crack it up to be

after all this time living in sighs

perhaps I have been caught Leg Before Wicket

a premature end to my meanderings

never mind . another circuit. more raucous appeals

and we’ll leave it all behind

the umpire at the centre and the scorer at the margins

a wide open door – and dreams

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