A Poem by Gareth Prior

Starry night over the Rhône

If you believe, love, that all
matter is energy half-stilled
to a slow vibration, or this wild
pulse of space the antiphonal

craving of stars and river; if
you know – somehow – the veil can lift
imperfectly from a moored craft
or swollen art; if as you leave,

musing back at the foreground “Who
is this blur of loss, and are there two?” –
always the answer is you and I

and all who’ve known the swirls above
touching this recreated love
under a fleeting sky.

Gareth Prior……………………….