Twig

Diviners by Breda Joyce

Diviners

A child, I followed him around the field,
held a wish-bone between my fingers.

And when he paused and felt the strain,
I watched his strong wrists twitch.

I saw the fresh green hazel twig
upend between his hands –

helpless against the surge
that convulsed from streams below.

His eyes tightened; I tightened
my eyes too and willed my wish-bone

give a sign that this gift would pass
from his warm hands to mine.

The Milk House logo

 

Reshaping the lightBreda’s poetry collection Reshaping the Light was published by Chaffinch Press and is available here.

Learn more about Breda on our Contributors’ Page.

(Photo: General Views/flickr.com/ CC BY 2.0)

Breda Joyce
Latest posts by Breda Joyce (see all)