Carpe Diem

From my study window
     I see you
below in the garden, a hand
     here pruning
or leaning across to snip
     a wayward shoot,

a daub of powder-blue in a
     profusion of green;
then next moment, you are
      no longer there –
only to reappear, this time
     perfectly framed

in dappling sunlight, with
     an armful of ivy
you’ve trimmed, topped by
      hyacinth blooms,
fragrant survivors of last
      night’s frost.

And my heart misses a beat
      at love for you,
knowing a time will come
     when you are
no longer there, nor I here
     to watch you

on a day of such simplicity.
     Meantime let us
make sure we clasp each
     shared moment
in cupped hands, like water
    we dare not spill.

 


from The Touch of Time: New and Selected Poems (Bloodaxe, 2014), © Stewart Conn 2014, used by permission of the author and the publisher.

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