Tending
Mess of thin cobwebs in the top corner
of the bathroom window, one yellow
spider a long-legged sac patrolling the bounds;
rain that tends down with this soft hiss, a veil,
its silken signature of earth-parchment
a blessing, temptation, wilderness;
or snores that broach sleep, dream, shared breath
of dog and man. Alive. All so present,
so rich. And when it fades at last, so ended,
the gentle shared movements of our living,
constrained, ferocious, here. Everything
so long continuing and yet, quite soon, so gone.
*Harry Owen was appointed the inaugural Poet Laureate for Cheshire in 2003. He now lives in Grahamstown, South Africa. His fourth collection, Non-Dog, has just been published by The Poets Printery.