Swapping worlds

At the time you swapped your worlds
I was stalking the narrow evening light;
Capturing the places where the grass-heads glowed with inner fire
and fingers of brightness reached across some
ninety million miles to anoint
a favoured stem with gold.

Strange how death,
dramatic as he is,
remains so silent in his work.

There ought to be a ripping
In the fabric of the universe;
A tremor in the rocks;
A shockwave of indignity
as life is plucked away
and grief lies bleeding in the gap.

But silently as light death comes
And I was wholly unaware;
Watching the grasses tremble in the evening air

One by one the shadows shifted as the sun shone through;
One by one the grasses blazed,
Anointed by transforming light.

It's your turn now.

(c) A Mc N


A fit man with a twinkling sense of humour, David had been critically ill for 10 days. It seemed so unlikely he could die - despite the close shaves in the past. Then he slipped away. I was only two miles away taking photos in the evening light - it seemed strange that death is so silent; that something so extraordinary is so unobtrusive that you can be nearby - even in a neighbouring room and not know it has happened.