Winter Colour
Blush-shy,
The flower rises
From the soil,
Then opens into white apparition,
Helleborous niger,
The Christmas Rose.
On such a grey and rain-rotten day,
I welcome this affirmation
Of unbridled joy:
Paradise where least expected
A Measure of Dusk
A delinquent moon slinks past Shetcombe Hill.
The dead-branch antlers of an oak
Defy the onset of dusk.
Clouds misappropriate the treasures of sunset.
I have seen daylight fade
A dozen dozen times
(This year alone)
And yet only now
See it in its mystery.
I taste the colours,
Breathe-in the perfumed voices
Of women.
A sprinkle of stars
Senses the senses.
No truth but in the senses.
