Lorraine Carey: a poem



Still

To grasp the delicacy

of a wren, one must gently

hold the tiny lifeless bird

cupped in a palm.

The weight of a one pound coin

and wing span the length of a pen,

its heart is no larger

than the smallest

button cell battery.

My cat removed her

collar with the tinkly bell

and who am I to pass judgement

on natural instinct as

she sashays by, the wren

clamped in her jaw

then dropped at the back door step?

Renowned for its rich trill,

high notes and varied timbres,

I acknowledged

this little miracle

with the stillness of the moment.



Lorraine Carey’s poetry is widely anthologised and published in Poetry Ireland Review, Abridged, Orbis, Prole, Smithereens, The Honest Ulsterman, and on Poethead, among others. Longlisted in the National Poetry Competition 2019, she has work forthcoming in The High Window and Ink, Sweat & Tears. She is also a Pushcart Prize nominee. Her debut collection is From Doll House Windows (Revival Press) She lives in Kerry, Ireland.