True
North
It's
late but I saw
the
circuitous roads of North Wales
sliding
around the estuaries
and
actual mountains
rising
for once
to
respectable heights
astonishing
colours of sky
breaking
out and unravelling in pink
ribbons
of sunset
and
the moon on returning
was
a razor thin shard
revealing
our
shadows showing up on a blackboard
punctuated
by stars
It
is late but it is never too far to go
truly
home for the first time
and
recover the senses
we
lost
many
centuries ago
Un-named
flowers
It
is time to rest them
the
flowers of May
so
sweet and unexpected
and
cultivated in her own garden
craftily
picked at dawn
beneath
my
unwitting
window
and
quietly arranged by hands
tough
as an old barn owl's
when
I came down
the
tread-worn stairs
black
as a cloud
each
morning
I've
got some flowers for you she'd say
presenting
a glass or vase
of
these elegant flowers
so
delicately arranged
so
sweetly scented
they
so near blew me away
that
I always forgot to ask her
for
their names
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