Yesterday JoAnne Growney thought about defining herself by seven objects, but opted in the end for her seven favourite lines of poetry.
When I tried to do the same I found that, in most cases, a single line was too sparse, so I have cheated and come up with seven couplets.
you are the cat’s paw
among the silence of midnight goldfish
rose-moles all in stipple upon trout that swim
fresh-firecoal chestnut-falls; finches’ wings
he that kisses a joy as it flies
lives in eternity’s sun rise
as kingfishers catch fire
dragonflies draw flame
ash on an old man’s sleeve
is all the ash the burnt roses leave
the ghost of electricity
howls in the bones of her face
the light is still
at the still point of the turning world