I have moved
From the seat with a dedication
To a bench not yet with a name
I have asked myself
What right do I have to say
That this whole place
Has been stolen from Yorkshire
Just as St Ives
Flattered our own Barbara Hepworth
With its bright Atlantic light
Schoolchildren and pensioners
Of which I am one or the other
Make up today’s
Spread out attendance
I too then a trespasser
Having found my shelter earlier
In the grounds of Orchard Cafe
There, or nearby, to see
A cast of Rupert Brooke
Also his good looking portrait
Hung on the wall in the tea rooms
All is very well here in these grounds
But it is a respite, or a swift retreat
Rather than truly being my shelter
I may visit again, to study in the archives
There to sit, to dwell calmly
And let the perceived truth
Erase my, wilder, first impressions
