Beneath the Sparrow’s Wing – a poem by Ruth Gilchrist

Beneath the Sparrow’s wing;

Floats Venice
And us; searching for the light.
each pointe lifting us so far,
stucco facade reaching heavenward.
Each choral offering,
masked face cast upward.

Up beyond the shadows,
the half-opened shutters
the narrow Calle;
the Sparrows flit.

We walk each open piazza
note stippled reflections
glance down every canal.
Stand at the water edge
and stare at the sunset
lulled by the sighs of history.

Venice; seducer of Neptune;
muse of the gods.
But we do not find its light
in gold or glass.
It is not found in arias
or the theatre of spires.

We find it in each window box,
each seed caught in flecking plaster
each will- o- wisp tree
and Sparrow’s perch.

In the morning, we embrace the early
whistler, the rattle off the refuse barrow,
call of the street seller
voices that carry on the water.
And we buy bread
to feed the Sparrows.

Ruth Gilchrist is a Scottish based writer. A member of EyeWrite and Dunbar’s Writing Mums. “Writer of the Year 2015” Tyne and Esk. Ruth collaborates with museums, photographers, film poems, radio and musicians. Poems published in Snakesin and Scrivens webzines and the SouthBank poetry magazine Southlight and The Eildon Tree. Also in various anthologies, including the Federation of Writers Scotland.

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