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Posts Tagged ‘Devon’

ONE MOMENT AFTER ANOTHER

1
The morning is
Daffodils and speedwell.

Above the tumble,
Jackdaws skim and surf
Blurred wind.

There will be,
(Say the clouds),
An afternoon of shadows
Collecting rainbows.

A season of light,
A thimble
Of forgetfulness.

2
Dawn reflex
A refection of cloud.
Nothing I could have done better.

Dappled elegance, cold blanket,
A tipping of scales,
A slow drift to the east.

A furrow, cross-cutting purpose,
A tiny friction, a wing-beat.

A sampling of enigmatic facts,
A certain blue
A certain distance,
A shading off into infinity.

(refection = a remaking, a nutrient, a food for body, mind and spirit)

3
New rising
Mist and birds,
Rising with the sun.
Rabbits pause and scatter.
Slow hills take form.
Heaven divides from earth.
A bleating of lambs.

4
Light in lines and waves
A moment mirroring
Off rooftop frost.
White grasses shudder and steam.
A birth of shadows, proud instants
No longer in between.

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VALLEY SPIRIT

Over the last hill
Our prize is the view

Where the village nests,
Wood wreathed, woodsmoke.

Gathered fields almost,
Almost ready for spring

But patient, cautious,
Unhurried.

As unhurried as the morning.
Its grey lambswool clouds,
A blanket for Imbolc.

CROSS-HATCH

Imbolc morning:
Clouds like wolves,
And sheep.
Sun on all.

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clasped1

ARCHED (part 6)

Footfalls,
Echoed whispers.

Slow light
Pools.

Names
Fading slowly.

—-

light2

A thin, cool shell.
A golden cup
For space.

Earth wells up,
Slow bubbled bliss
Under flags and brass.

Carapace,
Remnant, skull.

Outline echoing
Slain god outstretched
(still dreaming),
Vines growing
Through splayed fingers,
Fingers growing into mountains.

Eyes full of light
Coruscating, kaleidoscoping,
A replaying of memory
And sound.

Illumination of dark corners,
Interface and intersection,
Cavity.

Heart
Evaporated:
Chambers
Of song.

—-
quattrefoil screen

Stone’s song:
We, eloquent in edge,
Tumbling meaning,
Disguised as the living,
Guiding, naming,
Numbering the dead.

A condensation of merit
And tears, and beating blood.
A lithophone, an organ
For reverberation.
A song for endless sleep,
A cradle for dream.
An approximate eternity,
Outwearing centuries.

roof bosses1

wormwood and bay2

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SETTLED

So it is settled:
Cupped, hammocked
In golden hay fields,

The sun
Of this northern land
Free, for a week or two,
To proudly swell
In still, blue skies.

To warm brick and path
Long past sunset.
To pull trees starwards
In deep green shade,
Sheened with dust.

Nestled, the violet mallow
In golden grasses.
Nestled, the purple knapweed
Along the pasture edge.

The hedgerow elm,
Two years dead,
Swathed lush in ivy,
Crowned, adorned
In arcs of wild rose.

Life rushes in
Dressing old wounds:
White yarrow, pink yarrow.
Sudden sweet drift-
Overwhelmed by honeysuckle.
The fingers, white fingers
Of bindweed count the days.
Swallows sigh happy
Swinging high in evening.

It is a time of tasting,
Of breathing.

There is music,
There is silence,
I can find no difference.

There is one second,
There is the next,
Tell me, if you can,
Which is more perfect?

—-

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THESE MOMENTS.

Hemlock

Clouds the hedge banks.

Light

Is high, a heaviness

And a stillness.

Slow air

Collecting summer,

A weight of green.

Pillow clouds

This light rests upon:

Grey and silver.

Content

To remain a veil.

The dry earth,

Warm and pale.

Nodding roses,

Damask scented.

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