I did not go to the Mountain
To see the Four Colours of Rock
Neither did I walk around
The Basket Dew Pond
I did not enter the Guardian Shelter
Of woven hazel plastered with mud
Neither did I traverse by the Cuckoo Dome
Which interleaves the inside with the outside
The Shelter for Dreaming though lives on in me
I borrowed it’s name for a poetry collection
It almost became that basket
Which lies between this death and that life
The Tumulus on the Downs
Came before I walked there
Similarly the Air-Vessel Canoe
Had more space than I could hope to imagine
