A 21st Century Poet Recalls Blanchland, Spring 1996

Squirrel scratching last year’s nuts

Hungry horses in a dewy field

Wet wings on a butterfly

And a myxy rabbit – rock-still, silent

As God. My love was like all of these.

We live as we would have liked to live

In life: here with you. We’re dead

Like the furniture. We skulk and sniff and

Watch you write and try to weep. And fail.