Am I Not

I struggle with Hegel
With his sense
With his sensibility

I thought I was ok
With the here
With the now

Here with the sight
Now with the sound
Here with the smell

Now with the taste
Here with the touch
Now with the feeling

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Vantage Point

That outlook
This outlook
Those outlooks
Over fields, and fields, of corn
To the blue, blue-sky horizon

That farmer
This farmer
Those farmers
Ploughing, with tractors
Harvesting, with combines

That summer
This summer
Those summers, never the same

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Woody’s Top

It is
Out in the country
It has
Five en-suite bedrooms
With a hot tub
Round the back

It was
A youth hostel back in the day
It is true, yes, we did once
Hire the place exclusively
For a bunch of poets
To disorientate themselves

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Big To V. Small

Perhaps Capability Brown
Or one of his contemporaries
Planted out
The widely dispersed trees

It is a style
Not yet adapted
To the window box
Or the small terrace garden

Though for sure
The rash of reality TV
Just needs a spark
For it to be off and planting

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Plant Out

There is a giant conker tree
There is an avenue of limes
There are places just to be
Church bells, with chimes

There are lavender plants
Fair awash with working bees
Of course there are sycophants
Desperate, almost on their knees

There are sets of onions
In a kitchen garden
Old ladies crush their bunions
Saying; sorry, I do beg your pardon

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