The Poetry Society

Ladbroke Square: one place

where I can be sure that

like a poultice of green

the heavy summer trees

the branches and leaves which veil

the houses, dim the traffic sounds

will always soothe me

- where, to absorb the fact

that a word can betray

a thesaurus of misunderstanding

I have paced the boundaries

quartered every alternative

path, a peripatetic

who needs to think on her feet

- where I know I shall find

in the frozen lull between

solstice and full moon

though everything seems dead

the first resistless push of buds

and almost colourless frills

of embryonic growth

one place where - and when:

whether at the year's nadir

its lowest gear before

the sky-wheel creaks forward

or its zenith of ripeness -

to learn about recurrence

and transformation.