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Today I have for you a poem from the first poet in our new Two Rivers ('2R') anthology Confluence. Elisabeth Rowe is a long-term member of the 2R group. Elisabeth has that rare ability to both amuse and move: an insightful and quietly wry observer of human nature, she can make us laugh out loud on a 2R day (I recommend to you 'Soul Mates', from her first collection Surface Tension, and 'Periodic Tale' from the anthology) but much of her poetry is profound and wide-ranging. It seems to me that this range illustrates the Elisabeth who is in love with both Tobago and Finland; but the bedrock is the same little island that inspires so many of us: Iona, in the Hebrides. She's a frequent prize winner in international competitions; though even those of us who know her don't usually find out till long after the event. Look out for her new collection Thin Ice.
Starlings
arrive like a squall
of grief or wonder
a blizzard of ash
from the bonfire of day
a net flung wide
in the lemony dusk
a sky-shoal swimming
in dizzying millions
a mass affirmation
of life before nightfall
such confidence this is
their time and their place
the great wide-openness
suddenly dark with
a whiplash winging
of aerial instinct
each individual
streamlined assembly
of feather and nerve
in synchrony with
its seven neighbours
each swerve and dive of
their starburst patterning
staggered a fraction
stopping the heart
this fermentation
this gifted fly-past
heavenly recklessness
teaching the intimate
inter-dependence
of one with the many
the many with one
© Elisabeth Rowe 2010
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