The Art of Listening - by
Hunt out wild flowers,
reach out, not to pick them
but as an offer of intimacy.
wildflowers
Dandelions - by
You clamour at my retina, a cascade / of cartwheels, demanding paint / from my palette
Rose Hips and Thistles - by
It’s been a long Indian summer / and the hips are rotting on the beach rose. / I can almost…
Lady’s-Slipper Orchid - by
Though I know well enough
/ To hunt the Lady’s Slipper now
/ Is playing blindman’s-buff,
/ For it was June She put it on
/ And grey…
Ferns like poems - by
They rise
/ out of the earth like innocent serpents set to strike.
/ Their folded, poisoned heads assume
/ an attitude of piety; humility…
Poppies - by
No great triumphal march
/ For lads like you;
/ No pasteboard victory arch,
/ No grand review.
/ In…
‘flowering gorse bush’ - by
as leaves have grown / back in branches / songs have come / among the leaves…
Mistaking the season - by
Mistaking the season
the dandelion is blooming
in the frost on the road
Snowdrops - by
Snowdrops are not innocent:
/ They fight for what they win.
/ Beauty’s what comes out:
/ Blind energy goes in.
/
/ …
In Flanders Fields - by
In Flanders fields the poppies blow
/ Between the crosses, row on row,
/ That mark our place; and…
‘Scotland small?’ - by
Scotland small? Our multiform, our infinite Scotland small?
/ Only as a patch of hillside may be a cliché corner
/ To a fool…
Nettles - by
O sad for me Glen Aora,
/ Where I have friends no more,
/ For lowly lie the rafters,
/ …