I read, and write out
Mimi Khalvati’s poem The Valley
And of course, I am transported
Back to Holmfirth
Back to the Holme Valley
And to the many tributaries
Or rifts, which feed into the centre
I remember especially
One mid summers afternoon
Walking down from Cartworth Moor
Back towards my mothers
Council house at Cinderhills
I was in love at the time
Though my lover was across the sea
I was removed, to stop
Besides a dry stone wall
Where I found a four leaf clover
More importantly, I found a peace
A time, and place, to write a poem
Which I thought at the time to be of love
Yet, looking back, in truth
It may have been pure self-indulgence
Not that now I think that to be a bad thing
Not as a poet at any rate
Yet, for a lover, perhaps more care was called for
In explaining, with some equanimity, to my lover
My love of the beauty of this valley
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