Issue Two

Winter 2012

From a Car Window

Once, racing through flat Midlands fields
elbow to elbow in a crowded train,
a woman reached across,
touched my knee and
gestured to the window at a line
of dark geese cleaving sky.

They arched between us like a
small connecting bridge.
The silence of their moving wings
cancelled out the ching and burr
of i-pods, laptops, mobile phones.

Now, against the blower fanning heat,
the engine’s purr, the airbrakes
of a lorry slowing down,
no-one hears my cry of Look!

in a glittering field of frost
a flock of lapwing wheel and swoop,
the wide kites of their wings
black against the February blue.


Gill McEvoy