Maybe like a spy she wishes she could hide
or the wind would drop, stop
blowing her hair, that they would open
so we could share a ninety-nine
before starting on the path up the cliffs
where the twelve fearless white goats live.
What you expect to happen
happens? What you fear
will happen happens? What
you hope will happen happens?
What you believe will happen
will happen. What you knew
would happen happened.
The sparrow maybe thinks
Uh oh the hawk might get me
but maybe also thinks I can
hide round the back of this tree
then he won’t get me.
Looking for a
A maze designed to lead me back
directly to where I came from.
Round a corner of the field
- wide Kidz Field –
a top-hatted man in red on stilts
looks over the heads of the trekking crowd.
Where have all the rabbits gone, I wonder,
and do foxes negotiate the security fence?
Tonight cardboard beer-carriers
will be contribute to our fires
while we dance to the headliners’
heavy music on the hillside.
Before the end the ground will be hard and dry,
impenetrable, full of buried plastic water-bottles
Both sides – all the sides
The sounds of lorries & cars on the top road
approach & recede like my thoughts
as I strive without striving to regain
calm after a fraught night.
There seemed sufficient reason
to cut back the shoots of the buddleia.
Like a dammed stream or a dream ignored,
the force in due time will burst out elsewhere.