Redwing Tseep – a poem by Martin Towers

Redwing Tseep

Tseep of redwing, out of the dark over the high street
Of an autumn seaside town - and again, after one car comes 

then goes away. On the ground, mystery holds the swinging 
Pukka Pie Takeaway sign in a hover just back and away from upright. 

You watch, holding your ticket, the only one out there, outside 
the empty shop, on a chair, in a mask. Hungry but you can wait.

Redwing tseep changes things, you note - in its thinness, in its closeness 
to silence and nothing. It brings in winter. Brings remembrance 

Of responsibilities, to the dark side, to the moon. It slows down steps
To a stroll that will breathe when you go away from there with your food.

As you do, after a while, into night street solitude. Into yourself.  Into slow 
Stride past windows, your boots doing their heel tap, soul whisper on stone.

Martin Towers recently moved from Northern Ireland to Wales where he works as a support worker. Moths are a big thing for him, his favourite being the Angle Shades.

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