Chance And Choice Poem by Sally Evans

The back lane, ‭ ‬alternative route‭ –
‬a full hedge, ‭ ‬honeysuckle, ‭ ‬vetch
of green-blue stronger than sky, ‭
‬a poem at the end of the lane, ‭
‬a haunted barn‭ – ‬emptiness, ‭
‬a bridge under broken railway, ‭
‬a hill for no reason.‭ ‬The hedge turns down
among low, ‭ ‬sheltered, ‭ ‬well-watered fields.‭

‬Above is the terrace, ‭ ‬bleak high‭ –
‬bracken and adders‭ – ‬its road metal
light grey and warm.‭ ‬I choose the lane
this time, ‭ ‬and still more honeysuckle, ‭
‬tentacled, ‭ ‬tree-dimensional, ‭ ‬whiskered, ‭
‬in stronger and better colours
than the whitish wild rose or the pinkish
wild rose or deeper pink wild rose, ‭
‬all with stamens all with prickles.‭

‬Down this lane I plunge
headlong, ‭ ‬relentless, ‭ ‬propelled by chance‭ –
‬or is it deliberate, ‭ ‬is this lane
the acceptance of beauty, ‭
‬an appeal, ‭ ‬an approval, ‭ ‬a realisation
that nature is art‭? ‬That selections
from nature make art, ‭ ‬and great handfuls
such as bunches of honeysuckle,

‭already made wood carvings or the sight
of Scottish mountains, ‭ ‬the climbing
of them for perspective or going to Africa
America or the Orient for perspectives, ‭
‬is art, ‭ ‬and for me, ‭ ‬whether the chosen
honeysuckle lane is in Scotland or England, ‭
‬the Lune or the Teith near it, ‭
‬and whether it's under my viewpoints, ‭
‬the adder and bracken, ‭ ‬the choice matters‭?