Green Ghost
Today I see the bittercress in flower
and bees among pear blossom grazing knees;
the airs are mild, although the sky's all glower;
greys pass leaden; odd drops fall in sweet breeze.
The blackbird sings his aria complete,
and then long bouts of scolding at some cat
in the next garden. About their secret
the couple go with worms in beaks. That's that;
and blue-tit takes up the lead singer's place
his warble-trill over repeat-skreeking
sparrow chick. Sunshine - momentary grace.
In all these lulls a green ghost, unsleeping,
lays hands on me -this poultice: 'Grieve no more.'
Tiptoes out, closing some unfathomed door.
...................
Home From Work
The evening sun
a gardenful of bird-flit:
robin lunges up to flash
red breast at me, sweet beak,
zip away -
all this activity as I emerge,
waft through dancing midges -
sky's alive with couples coursing overhead
in resplendency that
gold-greens trees -
fills them dream.
Broad contrails cross,
milk scarves spreading
as from my aerial the blackbird chancels antiphons
(and is well answered -
other birds too, twit in underneath
the wide canonical canopy,
must, must chip in so to)
this evening liturgy of neighborhood.
What was it silenced all these - so -
as conductor flicked baton,
held for some long minutes, ticking,
before flying, flitting, singing let resume?
The sun's behind the houses now;
light leapt up and pulled its feet into high haze,
left us dusk.
