Posts Tagged ‘beauty’

A Season’s End
(Epitaph for Vicky)

we become more uncertain
and waver by the day,
our past melting behind us.
a change of season, inevitable.

where now that warm pulse?
that voice? that presence?
altered a little into sunlight,
into a vast, bright landscape,
into a bigger heart.

for there will always be beauty,
though no one promised joy
without sorrow.

we have melted into summer
wrapped in cooling green shade.
and some of us have not returned.

here then, the blossom heart of hawthorn,
here, a cowslip sky and creamy elder.
in the forest still are one or two violets
and the sound of running water,
and the droop and sudden flash of bluebells.
the sigh of swallows and the cuckoo misted valley.

where she walks now is all beauty,
and calm, and easy forgetting.
a summer that shall come upon us all.
and a long day, and a warm evening,
and a long, silent, singing night.


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(The ghost of William Blake conversing with
The ghost of Samuel Palmer, down by the apple
Orchard, perhaps)

Sunlight gathers heat.
Sparrows in the eaves
Flustered wings, feeding, fetching.

Small is the delight
That accumulates bliss, drop by drop.

The easy centuries
Of a cat’s sleeping breath.

It is a life of small moments,
A slow, steady filling:
Small moments noticed,
Not blessings to be prayed for,
Not dreams to be hollowed out from air,
Not glorious futures
Nor the wrinkled, cold hand of victory.

Upholding the fragile,
Precision of caring,
Peculiar coincidence,
Unexplainable connection.

No arrows of equations pinning certainty,
The sly, mad oracle of statistics,
Prophecies of bacterial bloom.
Summer storm
Here and gone..

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( for Master Jewellers, Jesa and Al Marshall
on their 10th year in business)

Gold and silver:
The softness there
Of sun and moonlight.
No use
But to adorn time
In timeless glow.

The most valued
Of things
Of no use
But beauty

Heart’s desire:
To possess
And to be possessed
Of beauty.

Folded starlight
Folded suns
To adorn
Our dust.

The world made new,
Made glorious
By each small thing.

One moment
Of beauty
The darkest day.

This body,
This world:
A gift
From a
Million suns.


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