On the death of a Jay and a Passing Train - Anon.

"See you soon", he said as he flew away,
Parted by a level crossing, we'd had the sun-filled day.
Nor has he yet, though yet he may. 
I cannot quite prove or bet on it.
For even as I write, perhaps,
He has tried to get through on some device
Or some pretence. A pretext contrived,
To keep a promise made in jest, 
At flashing light on mountain bikes.
But since when, we haven't met,
Despite the deafening roar of passing train.

"Take this", he said,
Pulling a 'hoody' top from out his back-pack.
The night was coming on and with it chill.
The sacrifice was sweet
And I succumbed without demur.
Indeed it did the job, smelling of him, 
A heady perfumed mix of smoke and sweat.
When I got home I hung it on a chair
And quite forgot that it was there,
On back of both, where it remained,
Not yet retrieved but sacrificial, lent.

"Keep the top!" in anger said.
What made him change his mind isn't clear,
But something isn't right.
Oh how without a word, or with just one,
The wind can change,
From balmy south to bitter east.
And back again: "No rush" he said,
When later trying to be kind.
But which is better, which is worse,
It's really very hard to say,
When trains rush by and love has died.

He "may call in when passing"
Or failing that "will see me soon",
If time and tide allow. "So busy now."
"So many things to see and do."
Meanwhile, whilst setting out on bike,
There in the Long Lane road,
The remains of a freshly squashed Jay
That lately was a favoured friend,
Daily flying in to peck, eager yet wary,
Now just blue white feathers, soaked in red,
What once was always round, now is flat.

It's hard to define 
What divides the living from the dead,
What vital spirit keeps alive,
Essential hope to banish dread.
Was something said that broke the spell,
Before the level crossing barrier fell?
Whilst Virgin trains headlong rush by, 
Jays crushed by cars no longer fly.
His passing shot, "I'll see you soon"
But may not yet, for this is June,
And Summer Solstice marks the fading sky.

"Best not speak in riddles" he said in chat,
But how to speak of life and love and loss,
Without precisely that?