Almanac Poetry: The High Mark
The High Mark
By Bruce Dawe
begins with the nod of a head
or flicker-signal of fingers
and a run that gathers in
the green day and the
grey crowd that rolls on its
great humble tides
and the run is a thinking
to the ball’s end-over-end parabola
that has sinews tough
– tensioning for the upward
leap,
hands now
eagle claws,
god’s hooks, hungering
for the leather dove, the run
among mere mortal men
in time, in place, become
the leap into heaven,
into fame, into legend
– then the fall back to earth
(guernseyed Icarus)
to the whistle’s shrill tweet.
Nick Howson’s Jezza
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Rest in peace. A little bit of the English classroom died with your passing.
Fine little poem about the “guernseyed Icarus”! Jeff Guess has also written an equally good poem (“Mark of the Day”) about this feature of footy.
Fine little poem about the “guernseyed Icarus”!