Sport 31: Spring 2003
The Violinist in Spring
A brightness illuminates my heart,
like two pots of tea, drunk quick.
In the Botanical Gardens
the daffodils are pushing through
and the river walks along beside,
guides me like a toreador
with flashes of light
is imprinted in my hands.
The gist of all my meaning
is kept here, and everything
can be understood
in the quick at the turning-point
of the joint of wrist or finger.
I hold my hands out from me
as if they are holding light
as if this might be taken from me.