In your generous hours

In the plantation of focus-grouped trees, allow the pine-marten,
   the bumbling mourning simple capercaillie,
   the cross-bill’s glip-glip,
allow the lips, the licks
                                   of sea-lochs,
   the dribbling pouts of dams,
allow the crime
   of the bramble, the nettle’s spite,
give the light some latitude, snagging in your lungs
(the coughers have coffers, the kissed their kist),
allow to exist
   the ledge, as a place of flowers,
allow, in your generous hours, by the
   substantiated cities,
   the suburbs, their off-the-hanger song,
   their greed to belong, to pretend to the lens and breath of the country,
be friendly
   in dialects of body language telepathy,
assume trust
   with credulous fish, with defactoried cattle,
allow a little attar at the altar,
stay confidential with your future
   to the limits of scanners
   (wipe the screen’s bleary plate),
you better not be late
   for enjoying the making of things –
make things
   (includes silence
you have a licence to treasure affection in the diving chamber,
   to welcome, partner, from our recovery slumber,
                   our plural known as ‘lovers’,
to discover
   the places that happened to grow you up in,
                   the schools and the schemes,
                   the smokes and the smacks,
oh, you better relax,
you’re attached to the universe
   by the tenderest of chances:
make allowances.
Allow me.

from Lucky Day (Carcanet, 2005), © Richard Price 2005, used by permission of the author and the publisher

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