BLOW THE WIND SOUTHERLY
Blow the wind southerly, southerly, southerly –
to a sunlit classroom in ’63,
before that winter, and Kathleen Ferrier’s
voice blowing through the window from somewhere
or other, a class not ours is singing together;
but it’s her voice, recorded in ’49 in a capella,
that continues to drift from the past to reach me,
though the breeze cuts it off intermittently.
Oh, is it not sweet to hear the breeze singing
again of love and longing never ending?
And what is the heart but an estuary filling
with love of those lost and remembering?
As the needle recedes on the tide tremulously,
a breeze once more brings her voice back to me
and who I was then and now can never be,
though I wait by the shore for all eternity.