Incomplete Circles Poem by Steve Downes

A tiny push
just a tip of a finger
as the exhale of a humming bird

Barely discernible
and yet it is enough
to change all from white to black

All that has gone before
has gone quickly
without fuss or fury


I wait for that final breath
I watch him
as once he watched over me

If I could find a circle
a way to loop life
as a water-rath from a heaved stone

But I must be content
with what a fleeting moment
a single human life is

To begin and live and end
as a tiny push
on the surface of the water

First Published 'Drogheda Writes' 2009