garnered seeds at rightful time –
deeds as seeds –
surrendered to the wisdom of the earth
which contains the wisdom
of all other elements:
surrendered to the faith in nature,
hope of harvest;
in the meantime, nought to do
but pray and praise and cultivate
that inner earth; care
for next year’s seeding field;
repair the fences of discrimination; trim
the hedges, spinneys, copses,
where free nature of herself displays
so beautifully, that which is.
There’s fresh gravel on the paththis winter day.There’s a dog kennel out there anda single warning bark from inside the house butyour shins are safe.Those neighbours of his seemquiescent today..The doormat has saidWELCOME forsome frayed years now.There are lights on andthe door opens quickly althoughthey weren’t expecting you so soon.‘How about a walk around aftercoffee,…
of West Hamateurshas sacked Pardewa scholarly note herepardew is old norman Frenchfor by God, as might appearin some Shakespeare play,‘pardew, wench, thou hast a pairof foaming jugs, I warrant…’or in a later century of faithby God comes victory to the worthyor on the terraces,by God it’s time he was sackedwhile Curbishley soundsmore like a 19th…
Travel agents tell me there is.They even suggest that I’ll be someone differentwhile I’m there…but suppose I was? Would Iremember to come back?Or stay there, be someone else..until I’m sure, I stay hereand practise just being here.It sounds simpler that way.Then when I’m expert in being here,and go somewhere,I’ll still be ‘here’ there..Really? You think…
but a rose is not as rosy as a ring –for diamonds are a man’s best bet;a rose is just a rose but the future could be rosy –a diamond is a girl’s best bait.a rose is a rose but eventually goes off;even love can have a nasty end;but a man who’s had his day…
and makes its own space,an inner space so greatthat it meets ourselves in its own radiance;so full that if we name it –blade of grass, thunderstorm, darkness, angel –it sighs to be named, lowers its eyes in sadness,silent with a certain regretat being parted from the name it sharesand even when we say that name…
then there’s what we rememberthat we’ve forgotten;and there’s what we’ve forgottenthat we used to remember;and there’s what we’ve forgottenthat we’ve forgotten.There’s a poem there somewherenow I’ve got that far.Dammit, I’ll go for a walknow the daffodils are out.
