The sun and wind
are playing mahjong with tiles of cloud,
illustrated so classically.
They have walled up the horizon
but left the blue, Delft bowl of the sky
and the neck of the glaucescent sea
through whose many-planed waves
we swim.
Cut a few bunches of sea-lavender,
pull up candelabra of samphire,
marsh mud clumped round radicals.
Team Urshie and me,
looking after Joe, gathering essentials.
..
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Keep The Home Fires Burning
PoetryA poetry Collection. Now Lunk has taken to his bed, swearing not to write one more word about C, and muttering 'bloody garden', it behoves (Love that word, don't you?) me (and Anima) to fill out his shoes, with soil and flower seed. So we will be 'e...
