Little white butterflies range
and chase across the yellow face
of mustard swathes,
spiral an airy whirl.
One flickers milky by - the wifi tip
of summer's hidden antenna
to image, diagnose, the very now.
Oat-grass is shedding pairs
of hard, black, hairy seed:
tiny plumbatae*
Spider webs in bramble tangle -
ectoplasmic inner sanctum:
on windy corners gusts whine, rend
and shred the webs away;
bound to stiff stems the opaque
egg packet remains.
Great sea lettuce is seeding
white bearded;
each dark leathery sepal
squeezing feathery.
Cirrus brushed to waved wisp-twists -
sky horizons hazed.
Half way back from a sea that
flees us far out over flats
by quicksands and sunken forests,
sunfilled Manila ripples in
crayfish pools that wriggle round toes,
then vast sprawl of lugworm metropolis
ceding to desert of stone and shell;
and long line of bladder-wrack pushed
there by outreaching fingers of this
slate morning's exhausted tide.
.................................
*Lead weighted darts thrown by infantrymen in the early and middle ages.
Anima : How was that?
YOU ARE READING
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...
