FROM LONG’S MEADOW TO ONEHOUSE

Just at dawn before it was down to the houses
I wandered out on it early and it was Spring
That sprang with the skylark mounting and moving clearly
Over the dew-dropping clover touching my feet
With sensible intricate patterns as I ran gaily
By diverse paths in humid tangles of tumult
Where blackbirds purified noisy thrushes away
Into chaffinch phrase and a simple chiff-chaff motif
Down the hawthorn hedges of meadows not long before day.
A mist that swam on the river shrouded round sallows
And alders floated out slowly, sheltering shapes
Of cattle sat at the process of sad rumination
Till light broke like showering angels – into dismay!
Dismay in my heart as the Angel vengeful and splendid
Cut his brilliant sword-blade into the shades,
Dismay as the constant Sun-God opened the endless
Fertile vision of purity as I made way
Most of that day in enchantment under his stare.

Cuckoo-flowers, the tender meadowsweet fragrance
Whirled me about as a butterfly, orange and white,
While I was wayward and windward scenting my duty
To be turning this way or that and Oh, yearning for flight!
Waterfalls took up my leisure and kissing of swallows,
Movement of minnows or stickleback fighting to death,
Skimming of pike in the shadows, dragonfly glitter
Led me a dance from the river, led me astray
Where ridiculous magpies strutted insanely unwary
Of the subtle frolics of foxes in between woods
And the air was full of the furry bees all bearing
Silence away in their millions so that I stood
Mesmerised still by that murmuring all afternoon.
Immensity swept in the rustling levels of beeches
Flowing with shadowy patterns into the dusk
As the upper air ran chill and the heavens drifted
With filament wisps and shreds to the western blaze.
The whispering time was rife with the minute twitters
Of turning bats and the suspect nudges of wind
Down the hedgehog paths as I came again to the village
With the visiting owl to the branches just about night.

Alasdair Aston