Goldcrest - by
You email of a goldcrest, drawn
by your window light, this fresh spring
to watch you write.
You email of a goldcrest, drawn
by your window light, this fresh spring
to watch you write.
Reeds, snake-like, coiled in the mistWhere the low fog drives:The muddy cough of the stream that strivesTo free its throat from the clot of reed,As they fight it out the water and the weed—While the fog, above, takes turn and twist:Men, these are your lives! Wild Geese across the moon:As some hand that unrollsAnd scratches […]
As I was walking all alane,
I heard twa corbies making a mane;
The tane unto the t’other say,
‘Where sall we gang and dine to-day?’
Listen, back in ‘74
I shot a crow with such force
its body cannoned into its partner,
dropped the pair from the sky.
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity.
The Robin cam to the wren’s nest
And keekit in and keekit in.
Box work
He is the lord of all he surveys, eventhough it is not that much, less than an acre of lawn and a handful of trees. Still, he likes to keep his beady eye on things, his feathery finger on the pulse. Even if just a single sparrow stirs, he likes to know about it. You […]
small oats rye bere barley
ripe harvest in late summer
a shallow ploughing
grazing and fallow in rotation
I saw you from my window, Margaret.
/ I was watching the seagulls swooping the sky.
/ The seagulls, I was telling myself, know
/ today…
Not crow, eyes calculating
/ my speed, the distance, his time
/
/ not blackbird or thrush
/ in a startled trajectory of flight
/
/ not pigeon, undecided…
In the trees above me
/ The blackbird sings
/ As I sit here at my table
/ With my books and my writing things.
/
/ A…
We will be closed on Thursday the 30th of November for the St Andrew's Day holiday. Dismiss