I found a vole the cat had got, whose heart beat
so fast
my mother said it might run out of beats
too soon and pass away

and when we let it go it ran away
and hid itself
beneath the bush with thorns I'd grabbed one day
and scratched myself

I peered below and thought I saw its tiny form
its patience
waiting for its heart to carry on in health
or end in silence

What would it be for one of us to have
that patience
- to let the earth decide for us,
to wait in silence.