All year it has been there, though hidden well,
looking like all the other numbers, just
waiting to be ticked with barely a glance.
A date to pass through as we thought we must.
And yet now see what it has done to us.
Just see what all the time it held in store.
A day to trip us, through remaining years.
How could we not have noticed it before?
From: A Walk in Winter (Enitharmon,1989),
Time Between Tides (Rockingham, 2009)