L’ange qui descend, John Lyons (50 x 70 cm, oil on canvas)

Yesterday seen
       through an acre of grass
honeysuckle and petunias
       peonies and nasturtiums
and sweet lavender in the air
       and my life under glass

The rag and bone of me
       and all the years
run through the mill
       of the conversing mind
the long shadow of age
       cast not as affliction
but as an accomplishment
       classed under mighty oak

In his heart of hearts
       the poet knows
that the nutshell
       that the end of life
is life itself
       and that every page
is a stage upon which
       to strut his stuff

Pen to paper
       with an eagle eye
he surveys it all
       committed to the call
of truth – inspired
       if not besotted
by the frenzied memory
       of love’s youthful follies

In time the clouds
       will dissipate
in time his silences
       will ring loud and clear
the dead will cast off
       their shrouds
and the angels among us
       will dry their tears

John Lyons