A poem by Gael Turnbull
from the 'all wind and sunshine'
issue of island
IF AT MOMENTS
If
at moments I may seem to clutch
possessively at what I don't possess,
think nothing of it : swirls of froth,
a random fall of leaf, mere
wavers of a breath. Be free
and sudden when you go,
be all of that... but not
oh my heart, please
not just yet.