Big sky

when it's grim and
you have forgotten 

how to go on - and the

wind blows in a way

you no longer recognise
you stand again in this

strange ambivalence of

a place you love - and 

where left to get on with it
your withdrawal grew

for it was only in defeat 

that you find your strength

so you retreated in peace 

to inhabit a world 

of wide open skies and
soft sandy fields, filled with

the shrill calls of shrikes

where last thing at night
the little owl softly calls

to anyone still awake

so on the path you track

across the seasons, hearing
the eagle cry and the hoopoe

swoops for moths at twilight

you feel time spiralling until

you stand still on the campo
to watch leaving swallows 

flying low, understanding