Late Show

I only watch reruns now,
or films about geese,
and yet I’m waiting for the miracle
I used to find in early black and white
where everyone looks like us and ends up
happy, in a place they’re learning
never to take
for granted.

In Northern Canada,
it’s summer now
and birds that look like friends I had in school
are dancing in a field of moss and thaw
and, as I watch, the darkness gathers round me
slowly, warmth and quiet in its gift
for as long as the birds
take flight, or Lucille Ball
lights up the screen
like someone who’s been there forever.

– John Burnside

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