Poet, editor, lecturer.
https://niallosullivan.substack.com
| website | http://niallosullivan.co.uk |
| newsletter/essays | https://buttondown.email/niall |
| digital garden | https://niall.garden |
| pronouns | he/him |
Poet, editor, lecturer.
https://niallosullivan.substack.com
| website | http://niallosullivan.co.uk |
| newsletter/essays | https://buttondown.email/niall |
| digital garden | https://niall.garden |
| pronouns | he/him |
LITTLE LIVES ROUNDED
I step off the narrow path onto the long grass to let a new dad pass with his tiny treasure harnessed to his chest.
Probably the first, seeing the slight bewilderment in his eyes and how he cradles the back of the child's head with his soft, white collar palm.
It will take a while for his world to settle again from its current state of swirling newness.
All these sleepness nights until the waking life returns to the state of familiarity and routine.
Another form of sleep.
ASK A SILLY QUESTION...
Is this sky that shifts from faultless morning clarity to murky afternoon nimbostratus an English sky or a London sky?
The trees offer no answer to the throbbing knots potbound in human skulls.
Their new leaves have waited centuries to answer the same questions that think themselves different.
The same answer now as it will be when they burnish and fall.
Now. Now. Now. Now. Now.