Treasure Island

Peter Russell

(1921-2003 / Bristol)

Monday Morning


I

I look from the daffodils to where a shelf of books
Gathers the imagination in the shadowed past,
The calf-bound brain-cells blooming in the dark
All seasons, as the light of a mind illuminates them.

Why should I take one down when the daffodils
Spread light in the living brain-cells? Why require
Illumination out of the dark while the sun shines
And the ducks and the waterhens are diving in the park?

II

Perhaps there are no realities and the sweetness of snow
Like sugar, is a theorem of shapes in space;
But the cubes and the hexagons know where to go
Because they are space, bent round itself and ordered
Like the single thread in lace…

Submitted: Tuesday, May 20, 2014

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