Lunesana
I’ve got to get this hawk out of the stone
but it's six thirty; I’ll wake up the house,
the whole street, if I get my brother’s hammer out.
I was rounding that corner for hours
along the finer parts of the feathers,
just because I daren't wake Milo’s baby.
They only just got her to stop crying.
It's strange, what you see when you’re up early,
when everyone else is still asleep.
The roads seem different. There are no cars
out except for that white van
that never seems to stop. It's been going
for so long it’s become part of the stillness now.
I bet the moon looks down at that van with envy;
we’d have symmetrical waves the world over
if the moon ran with the constancy of that van.