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||Edwin Drood's Column
||18 March 2014
|Hugh Featherstone prepares the fatted calf on a tiny planet.|
|The prodigals return
The watch-making biologist,
great Doctor, wears us on his wrist
a tiny planet spun around
the least of all his suns
the merest spark
How curious, we’d not be missed
upon His grand, immortal list
we hardly span this dungeon round
and yet we sense the fun
the cosmic lark
In juxtaposing God’s great fist
with fragile us, we get the gist
whoever we are, lost or found
we know that we’re the ones
who leave a mark
No need to bargain or insist
whenever we break through the mist
we’re greeted by a joyous sound
our brothers fire their guns
and mastiffs bark
And tender maidens, roughly kissed
gaze up to see our ship resist
the clouds in which she’s run aground
and rise, full, clear, to stun
the fleeting dark
The impudent, the brilliant
the ones who never learn
today the prodigals return
Hear angels laugh in heaven
From Bird under water, a selection of poems by Hugh Featherstone
© Hugh Featherstone
Another poem from this selection will appear next time the Drood's away.
The Bird under water homepage includes a foreword by Hugh Featherstone
and a linked list of the poems as they appear.
|Edwin Drood's Column, the blog by The Mysterious Edwin Drood,|
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