The flame is out

The flame is out There is no wisp left stirring. Nor is there hope: no claim upon a light-weave brilliance that hovered, shook the earth, and then was not. A jolt is left, a return to familiar ground, a wavering impression as of a click, a sudden switch-off flatness;...

At Sissinghurst

At Sissinghurst Touch hands in an intimatekiss touch sudden heatin a cold-fingered morning touch the leavesand fields and woods in a great gardenalight in October touch words let them lieat ease and mingle in a fine tousledbed of land touch a flower-brilliance...

Towards what loveliness

Towards what loveliness Towards what lovelinessdoes the day turn. A breath comes once againof a new being: as into the air climb songs,a palette of colours at a symposium,a feast of voices: now a blind speaking-in-tonguesof sky-shades, up for discussion in the...