I gave up churches,
even the ones that recognised
silence as a river of sacred possibilities:
...
At the flowering,
Solstice makes Poppies’ frills flash in its cornfields,
leads Rose petal silks along garden paths,
lets folded Foxglove-fingers ruby and open for bees
...
For every time
and place, the right
encouragement.
...
Few folk will talk about shadows
after a long winter
except poets, who listen
to what shadows say.
...
For us,
communion gifts were otherwise.
We went to sing the song O,
Thou, pure, divine
...
You didn’t believe me at the time:
how could I be so fond?
But it’s true, I said:
poets are always
...
Two years ago, the Ferris Wheel
offered you a view.
It’s true that time runs out
to an ordered plan
...
The good have been a.w.o.l. for a long time
and the blue mood rules
Europe, making fury futile,
reconciliation necessary as middle-aged bathroom-
...