GULLS ROOSTING (from ‘Poems from Long Ago’)

 Dark flurries over roofs and swaying trees,

against the rosy evening, rise, swoop, dip and glide, slide

on barely beating wings along the fluent wind,

the earth below held cold in sudden shadow,


of damp grass and dank air, and the sky

floats north above the fallow valley

on the ceaseless stream receding 

over wooded hills to cliffs and crags of other sunlit clouds

along the earth’s rim 

Returning to the Marlborough Downs (from ‘Poems from Long Ago’)

June 15th - High Wind 023



Sometimes in memory I see

those boundless skylines, hilltop woods and distant knots of trees

whose echoes linger on the sky; a rutted road

receding over folding hills

beneath a burning sun.


And as the memory expands and grows I see

an afternoon progressing through the hours of heat,

golden haze upon the stippled corn, a silence

counterpointed only by the song of skylarks and the drone of bees

and all the creatures which abound

among the stalks.


Yes, reaching back, the memory grows weak

as I attempt to see to evening and the setting sun

bestow a ray of gold on every bush, on every leaf,

the haze dispersing – colour, texture, shape of sun and shadow growing sharper

more distinct; the dots of trees along a distant ridge, the flawless downs,

the hilltop camps arranged in cosmic silence seem to gain

a power greater even than before and all of time

is held within a point of timelessness.


Yet memory alone cannot retain

what moved so long ago through head and heart and feet, I just recall

as clouds process across the western sky,

a sense of hope.