Here and now
breathe in
the vanilla ozone of baby skin,
the breath a gift, the wrapper smooth,
unbothered still by time.

Breathe out,
and send it into air, don’t hang around, but concentrate
upon the years, set about the housework, invest
your hopes in hopeful outcomes, make
the necessary journeys, shout
your slammed door anger, know
the faraway hotel-room longing and regret and pay
the inevitable cost of the cost.
You must count the smiling departures and the heart’s repairs,
believe in the soundness of your own directions,
but keep the room exactly as it was, just in case.

And one morning – you will know when –
sit quietly, so still that you can hear the fall
of petals, the brushing hum a silver dot
in flight, the slow unrolling chord of earnest bees, the
keening of the seagull chicks huddled under chimney pots.
Now focus on the hard old horseshoes where
you meet the garden chair and
breathe in,
an old gift delivered, a revelation –
the exact road travelled from
Then and there.