GREEN

Hammer Lane, Sussex – a place to stop and draw breath – after the poem:

GREEN

Colour
That by night is held in tight fists
Loosed at the blanket chorus from
The papery flower throats of birds
Not forgotten during the death-roll
Under

this green of unfolding
this green of mystery
this green of May

Or
That here washed up am we flotsam
Myselves finding at peace to be thus
Highed and dried as the universal tide
Slides out.

D.A.Tearle 2003