“The Gift – Sonja
Every now and again I binge on Sonja’s poems, reading several weeks’ worth at a sitting and entering into the quiet goings on of her life in Wales, charmed by her wit and humour. This is of a piece with that great sequence. I didn’t quite understand what the poem meant by “not a metaphor”, but it did alert me to the possibility of metaphor within the poem, which I soon found – the cutting of the path, which is a nice way of thinking about the renewal of friendship through meeting.”
Thanks Halls, Oxford.
it is a gift, the friend ship, the kiss
on each cheek with out avoidance.
it may seem continental, yet we are
dolgellau. it is a meeting place, yes,
near the church. there are similarities,
yet this is not a metaphor.
we met at ten, talked of family,
one hour led to two, and overstepped
the parking time.
later in the garden, i thought of you.
i cut the paths and thought of you too.
it is a gift.