"When time permits,
we cover ourselves with moss
to soften the violence of flight,
listen for ripples in the atmosphere
waiting for the proper slipstream
to carry us, back to the place
where a slight turn of our head
altered the course of planets."
"There are worse things than having behaved foolishly in public.
There are worse things than these miniature betrayals,
committed or endured or suspected; there are worse things
than not being able to sleep for thinking about them."
"The sheep get up and make their many tracks
And bear a load of snow upon their backs,
And gnaw the frozen turnip to the ground
With sharp quick bite, and then go noising round"
"Among his own kind he is peace-loving
and will not pick a quarrel lightly:
but if battle has to be given, he will get hold
and not give in, or let go, for the life of him,
of stick or ball."
"Each of us goes through life with these holes in our bodies until the right words find them. And then afterwards? What do we look like, this patch of quilted words with arms and legs? I cannot say. I’ve never seen anyone so whole. I’ve never seen a person pass me who wasn’t leaking light."
"in our average day we make thousands of lines -
across our rooms, our schools, towns, cities.
Because we fire off, getting hurt, feeling love, unloved, all day long, we find meaning in the line we have walked, look hard to arbitrary things for symbols, and reassurance"
"so that a child, somewhere in Gaza
while looking heaven in the eye
awaiting his dad who left in a blaze—
and bid no one farewell
not even to his flesh
not even to himself—
sees the kite, my kite you made, flying up above
and thinks for a moment an angel is there
bringing back love
If I must die
let it bring hope
let it be a tale."
"Everybody’s
busy, so distraught they forget to kill me,
and even that won’t keep me alive. I share
my home not with horses, but with a little dog
who sees poorly at dusk and menaces stumps,
makes her muscle known to every statue."
It was winter, near freezing,
I'd walked through a forest of firs
when I saw issue out of the waterfall
a solitary bird.
It lit on a damp rock,
and, as water swept stupidly on,
wrung from its own throat
supple, undammable song.
It isn't mine to give.
I can't coax this bird to my hand
that knows the depth of the river
yet sings of it on land.
-- The Dipper by Kathleen Jamie from 'Selected Poems'
"So I walked as day was dawning
Where small birds sang and leaves were falling
Where we once watched the rowboats landing
On the broad majestic Shannon"
"But now, both parents dead,
it was time, I thought, I had the time and
courage, I thought, and I found the letters—
I was going to say, in the last place I looked,
but of course, where else?"
"These all spring up
from dimness to full life again
because of you, as if they were no more
than low reliefs carved badly in black slate
until you shine."
"the heron was in the same place,
same pose. If it was the same heron. Or perhaps
only the same me, same pose, driving past,
threading my car between casual accidental
invitations of no railing along the causeway."