The twenty mile view
News from the flatlands and marshes
Earlier; as if in preview
We saw the vases of Mr Grayson Perry
Up cobbled streets; no hurry, slow up and go down
Past the west windowed Jews houses
In embroidered flouncy skirts
And broad waist corduroy trousers
Now, somehow, back in the county mansion
We stand to wait at the door there for the carriage to return
Bare but not without news of old chestnuts and peregrine Falcons
Oh and of New England, in the fall, after all
Thus spoke one who speaks of one who has gone before
The one who saw the snowdrops and the tree in beauty’s stare
With her leaves scattered on the pavements and the parking lots
Stop; still, in the now of welcome, wait here with the moment
Quietly, somehow let the breath be slow, wipe your brow
And settle on the present sea, on this the current undulation
Knowing that at the distant station she will stop the train
If, and when it’s due, or intentionally meant for her to be
