In the hayfield
the ghosts of corn marigolds
kept from blooming this year
lift imaginary faces
to the June rain
*
Queen Anne's lace
gracing summer hedgerows
I remember my small friend
I remember how even when dying
she loved to swim every day
I remember
helping her over the threshold
one such June
*
June –
my mother's name –
now this rain
fills the buckets
overflows into everything
*
In the courtyard the new blackbird
too young to know fear
old enough to know slugs
is breathing the same air
as the yellow irises
as the slug feasting on
birdshit and blossom
as me
*
This rain
its million notes
our one tune
*
© Roselle Angwin, June 2013
Walking the Old Ways : nature, the bardic & druidic arts, holism, Zen, the ecological imagination
from BARDO
The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way
Is it a consolation
is star-stuff too?
– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –
Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.
Roselle Angwin
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
-
▼
2013
(157)
-
▼
June
(13)
- wind ravelling through the mind: soul, Plotkin and...
- a diversion, and the dusky coastpath
- ...for today...
- pro-Palestine, pro-Israel – and pro-peace
- pea beans, peacocks and books
- poem for the summer solstice 2013
- by Uffington White Horse
- summer rain (poems)
- ... and back to the material plane...
- the difference between brain and mind
- holding down the demon
- 3 Horse poems, by Barbara Farley, Edwin Muir, and me
- kindness
-
▼
June
(13)
A beautiful, moving poem.
ReplyDeleteMarg
x
Marg, thank you :-). x
ReplyDelete