Selections

ermine

The fox

The fox stalked across the field in the late afternoon light

A ragged and thread bare specimen, ravaged from the cruel cold winter

That lengthened into February

He stops looks round searchingly

Yet distracted, somehow fidgeting with his own dire experience

His own state of affairs

My mother points out the starlings swooping above him as they ready to roost

Among the levels further down along the reeds

The fox moves sleekly, slinking like a chain of bones concertinaing

And then squats to lay his scent or shit

I have almost lost interest as he becomes the grey of sky, the brown and pale yellows of winter hedgerows

May be he was the fox that ate our chickens I say to my mother

All those years ago

He is an intruder, yet somehow respected for his cleverness despite this. And I feel somehow very safe and sanitized in this my mother’s house but seeing him also vulnerable. Like seeing a thief from behind the confines of a ‘CCTV’ camera – catching him in the act. It is the interest in his survival, his spirit and hut spa. Confidence in wildness, somehow he will always be there, in the back of your mind.

Otter

Otter sleek, Minky whale black

Bitter as beer, the coal black water

Mirrors as obsidian

This corpuscular form

Meiosis divided itself

From the jelly mass of the lake

Yet never breaking the meniscus

- it bobs it's whiskers appear damp

And shining

Back rises and slinks back into the black

Great Breech Wood

I went to walk in Great Breech wood

And found myself where trees abound

The North wind blew between dead twigs

And curled the leaves that lay on the ground

My nose it twitched, my ears they itched

I felt the presence of deer and hounds

I saw a squirrel run to a trees furthest reach

And heard the forest birds song of sound

The nettles stung, the beeches browned

The Oaks were strengthened by the ground

The leaves curled in the winter furls

That twirled the wind and around me wound

And my love did call from beneath an ash’s eves

Like a satellite I was drawn to its planetary crown

Then Great breach wood was torn asunder

It gave forth lumber of Larch and pine

All of it under a winter storms thunder

Which rattled the bones of all those near

Their toppling heights and treacherous climbs

My dear lady was struck by a bolt of lightening

A love dart from the Gods struck her in her prime

And the planetary dark that ensued was a wonder

To walk in this park I felt was a crime

My romantic soul wished to lurch in search of a number

By which I could dial then bring back the time

But the forest which was wiser than mountains

Held my soul fast so alone I did climb

To birth the last hope I had of my loved one

And set her soul free her one God to find

Now alone I walked through the forest alive

Badgers scurried like bank clerks collecting

Their wad of twigs and worms like knives

The wood pecker sung the pigeon cooed

A single black bird alone mewed

And rats slumbered beneath

Rotting tree limbs

As foxes cavorted singing howling hymns

Then the forest was then quiet as a graveyard hushed

As greenery flourished

And foliage lushed

The sandal wearing saint was knighted

The night began its game

Half housed between this world and the next

Advantaged

As in the eves called the owls

And many Stations of the Cross were planted

As herbs and forest plants were avowed

Into sacred celebration

Of the moon lit majestic cows (boughs)

Who’s alien forms besmirched the landscape

And past the night with heavy sounds

Until in the dawn rose the single starlings

In the flock of chorus loud

And beneath the canopy of heaven

Wrote the names of those in shroud

To be remembered by the martyrs

Who had seen and died,

And lived then bowed

And this I saw while I was walking

All this was mine of to be most proud

Inside the Breech of the Great Wood Vaunting

And opened its vaults to the sun and the cloud

The Garden Stroll

In the early light

When witches candles turn low to smite

The earthly walkers on a stroll

Beside an ancient garden wall

Then one says to the other

“How strange!?

The brick work of Eden has been rearranged.”

As they ponder mortar and stone

They feel the feeling they aren’t alone

Then an archway becomes clear

Designated this way; ”Do not Enter Here!”

They hold hands then cross the threshold

Into a garden bright and so bold

The green’s of willow

The lush of Ash

Oaken avenues stand in stash

All look starkly like someone’s preserve

They feel darkly like they do not deserve

And then a hare and next a rabbit

Come by close as if by habit

Disarmed the intruders are quite standoffish

Then they realise they appear quite selfish

And pet and talk kind words to the mammals

Feeling next they may meet some camels

As they stand and pervade the view

The garden’s paradise changes hue

And far over a foreign hill

They see Cain fight Able, until one is killed

And open under heaven’s skies

They see rains fall and flooded lies

Noah’s Ark is there by chance

But many a bad creature takes death’s dance

And suddenly they too are running from the flood

By this they find the ties of water

Much stronger than those of blood

All washed up now on heaven’s shore

They think of their stroll to the garden’s core

And they think to themselves, but neither comment

They should not walk in wherever they wanted

Sing oh Lord

Sing oh Lord to the moon and the sky

To the land of the Blind

Where the pity birds fly

And bees buzz merry like the fruits and the flies

In the land where the pity birds fly

Sing oh Lord to the ones who have many

And the ones who are lost

But have not crossed on the ferry

Sing oh Lord to the Queen of the sky

To the Land where the pity birds fly

Hear their song, like a balm on the cherry

Like a sweet salve to the unchained mind

Hear oh lord how they sing you a tune

In the land where the pity birds festoon

Hear oh lord how their hearts are not heavy

With the price of their lives or the hanging moon

Hear oh Lord just what they may stir

In the land where the pity birds flew

Duck Pond

Deep in the duck pond

Where the green weed grows

And the straw is yellow

Next to the track,

Where the ivy creeps beneath the Alder and Willow

Which brush their stems and stem their flow back

Deep in the duck pond

Where the green weed grows

Ducks fight and splash about

It could be a war or a turn about

Or a pair of lovers in a spate

One who loves, the other who hates

But deep in the duck pond

They see to their deed

Where the willow weeps in the green duck weed

Down in the duck pond,

Where fellows blow their horn

And the little spirited sprout

Sings for the sweet summer corn

While the West wind blows

Then across it the Easterly is torn

All along the deep duck pond

Where all the birds were born

Severed heads on severed spikes

All seem dead but go ask the tyke

Shadows shake in the shallows like

The deep duck pond

Of the bad old Pike

He swims about, he asks not twice

He sees a snout, then snaps his vice

And there he has you, pulls you down

Into the depths of the duck pond to drown

Where hell is a spirit on the water

And the wind chills the slender necks of swans

And the rails with the moor hens daughter

Falls to the pails and the sweet shorn sun

Where the kale sways in the shallows

And the bulrushes blow their seed

Deep as heartache over the water

Of the deep duck pond with the green duck weed