ON THE RECEIVING END

When humans glow, light reflects
off them… flashes colour back at the sun
as if freshly washed and polished after a storm.

I’m caught in the copper/bronze of her,
the autumn silk sitting out under a double
rainbow and everything behind her pale

in the glare setting her in front of us
bolder than any well-buffed brass, dazzling
in rough-spun. She has all she needs.