1
Before the wasp swerve shakes
this lingering look I inhabit
in late August, of teasels,
the wind zithers in their spines;
and these hedges grasp the green-way
like a deep vein
between the roots of a bypass.
2
Watching a feathery, threading breeze,
this warm September afternoon
gust, shunting suddenly,
blowing away the grasses
further than terror,
and then blowing them back in again,
quilled with compassion,
Between Hardwick and Coton,
looking across to the sun-stone-ochre of Cambridge towers,
glad to be near the turned stubble clods,
under paths of late bees.
YOU ARE READING
Tapestries
PoetryPoems from 1978 onwards. These poems are in a different style from the later MajorSeventh, the earlier ones often with more of an Eastern-influenced cadence. Later, they vary a lot in form and style.
