Based on the painting of the Fall of Icarus, possibly by Pieter Breugel the Elder
The grit and grind of plough through soil,
the sweat and thud of horse and hoof,
the shepherd’s boredom, looking up,
wondering if worrying
on the coming rain
would consume an empty hour.
The captain searches for the route to port,
a moving mirage, shifting
endlessly amongst the rocks,
crew straining sinew against the wind.
The day will be dying soon, home
and harbour, family, food and rest.
Like the day, a boy dies,
and a father weeps,
drowned for want of listening
for what do fathers know?
But in some hours the day’s reborn
and tomorrow’s life continues as today.