Of
Mulch And Of Memory
Today, drenched in five miles of Norfolk/Suffolk query
Dew and grass cuts line
The moist quest
Dodging
In slow, awkward dance
Home'-bound Gastropoda
Too fragile and frequent
For a sure step of luxury
One death
I found my love no flower
But picked a wild apple that grew beside my route
I stopped to blink
At the inquisitive
And wide-eyed calf, cut-off each other's touch
By shallow dyke and warrant
Of death, in guilt
I averted eyes and passed forgotten youth
A mile later, I smiled
For the first time since Friday
I thought of you
And the tower of Beccles reigned her little quarter
Of country, of land, of English summer
I came home a travelled, cheery mess
Of mulch, and of memory
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