In The Poetry

This is a poem dating from 1984.

Prelude to a New Fin-de-Si

November in Devon

Leaving Plymouth last seen after first smashed by bombs,
Driving North all the morning after rain
Towards Hartland’s hospitable hearth
Through landscapes clad in disruptive pattern
Material edged be hedge or walls of dry-stone:

Under a cover of commingling cloud and clear,
Drifts of drab haze transpierced by wet blue slate,
Between lofty moor and deep glen
Past lanes twisting off [...]

Winter Garden

The season’s anguish, crashing whirlwind, ice,
Have passed, and cleansed the trodden paths
That silent gardeners have strewn with ash.

The iron circles of the sky
Are worn away by tempest;
Yet in this garden there is no more strife:
The Winter’s knife is buried in the earth.
Pure music is the cry that tears
The birdless branches in the wind.
No blossom [...]