KILLRUDDERY
Beneath the elders
Where bumble bees
Lose themselves
In flowering thyme;
I lie down in
dew-soaked ease.
And dog-rose is the
scent
That makes my
spirits rise
In the kingdom of
the low –
Flying bird.
I take comfort on
the mossy soil;
Last years leaves
sweet;
Damp In the
wing-tipped breeze,
To ease my mind and
soothe
My brow;
In dappled light my
speckled thoughts take flight…
And the
worm-seeking thrushes
Make a rustling
sound
Where life goes on
Underground –
Beneath the earthy
mound.
