at the margin of the day

Here's another favourite poem, taken from within the pictured 2014, limited edition collection, by Chris Waters:

 
Liminal
 
As if, skirting the wood
at the margin of the day,
crossing between here and there,
 
we pause on the chalk track
while light fades to a hush,
and in that space
 
the nightjars appear,
shadow-flickers spooling
and swooping in the valley
 
below, an under-glint
as they turn and rise, till one,
black against the sky’s last indigo,
 
wings outstretched, hovers
above our tipped faces,
as if, before night falls,
 
we too have somehow been seen.

---

Chris Waters

---