One Secret

Before daylight
on Christmas morning
he collected the rope,
and an old crate,
and made his way to the creek.
This was his secret.
One secret, in a life that
had never allowed secrets.
That morning
the old shed knew,
creaking its battered door,
and sagging roof struts,
but no-one heard.
Next day the blowflies knew –
self-important fellows in their
iridescent green waistcoats -
but they were too busy to tell anyone.
The day after that
a gentle breeze that followed the riverbank knew.
It eased into the shed, and straightaway it knew.
Streaming out through the glassless window
it took the secret downstream
to the fishermen at the river's bend.