March
what light there is
filtered through the fan
of their feathers
the spine, pale and articulate,
of a fox or a hare
punctuated equilibrium –
how earth evolves
in sudden ruptures
the sputnik graphic
alarmingly crimson
someone gets there
before me – liberating
the abandoned bicycle
in the open field of the day
plovers calling
the room full
of winter
it’s never been as warm
neat white flowers
of the barren strawberry
if a thousand people
look at the moon
there are a thousand moons
what I tell the bees
is between me and the bees
everyone stockpiling
against worst-case-scenario pain:
paracetamol, ibuprofen, codeine
the colour of persimmons
a new charity shop jumper
bags packed
last minute change of plan
staying put
the swift narrow rowboat
Truant Muse in cursive script
half going one way, half another,
trying to give myself away
to inexactitude
stay in touch
she says, not touching
bringing home snowdrops
a small handful
of lingering hope
a woman in a mask comes
to measure my per cubic foot energy
wild garlic tart
as much for the soothe of making
as the savour of eating
Spring Equinox: I am a tilting cup
a tremulous star
warcabinetspeak
lockdown, self-isolation
linguistic distancing
never has a daffodil
looked more beautiful
the pilgrimage
of these days
becoming the path
two long-tailed tits
among the apple buds
my son comes home
we dance around each other
nothing is familiar
clapping the NHS
under a canopy of stars
a hedgehog emerges
from hibernation
leaves its traces
our prayer flags unfurl
as the chill wind blows
two pine logs and a plank
a new bench
for absent friends
in my sleep I steal back
yesterday’s lost hour
star of Bethlehem
hiding its pale light
among what the flood washed up
The first image is a gogotte – a natural rock formation from the Paris Basin, 33 – 28 million years old (Natural History Museum). The second, ancient and new, frogspawn in our pond.
