Why by Frank McMahon

are we here

instead of feasting round a table

as snow erases every footprint

or counting the ash tree’s

spear-tipped leaves,

stroking the yellow lichen.

Or racing into the waves

until the shock stops,

when we urge each other in;

or feel the braying horns

and timpani run through

the marrow of our bones.

Why are we gathered

by heaped soil and spade-smooth

edges, this glistening abyss?  

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Frank McMahon lives in Cirencester

Published poet: “At the Storm’s Edge “published in January 2020 by Palewell Press; also on-line and in print.

Podcasts with Ragged Foils Productions: “Detach from World”; long poem “Family Gathering “.

 Play broadcast on local radio, “A Death in Flanders” in 2018.

 Working on a children’s novel, plays for radio, short stories and poe