Poetry of Scott Thomas Eastham

THE DIAMOND ROSE

A Labyrinth of Light
already,
the quick in air
and the light alive through …
her here, the dawn: bright eye.
it’s a song, love,
that the breeze bore
aflame,
cut
from windflow and cold over mountain
a day to chisel oakshade, climbing …
this joy,
clearing in the wood,
climbing,
sun high now
and as river of light –
ply over ply,
scintillant,
warming now, still the river;
and yet also unstill,
eddying into song.
minding the song, then,
and the children:
‘so if i am the child
between you both,
the song?
how shall you know me?
squirrel nibbles acorn,
scampers under branch
and disappears …’