I came to Kettle’s Yard
Looking for a shelter
A shelter for dreaming
I found a basket of pebbles
Which was a pretty good start
Then a long tabletop of oak
Supposedly from a slave ship
Or so the story goes
But it is nature
Which truly does it
Such is the seeing of the vase of flowers
On the window ledge by the bathroom
Followed by the shelves
Of collected potted plants
Named as the Land’s Shadows
Or Drifting Trawl Ring Seine
I kick the pebbles
Which sit on the floor
Beside a big slice of tree trunk
I don’t mean to cause a disturbance
But I am excited by the Gaudier-Brzeska
My eye then settles on the fish fossil
In a piece of stone, atop the long shelf
Which divides the large open space
It could be stone
From my childhood river bed
For it appears to be
Not unlike Yorkshire Stone
This then is the dream
In this peaceful place
In this exceptional
Shelter for dreaming
