Buckfastleigh

everything by the cankered hand
of a (imagine!) divine gardener,
weather worn, tending and nurturing his plot
amid a bestiary of nightfall companions:
tourmaline panthers, golden owls
creatures with patience in their necks
listening among the foliage to the nearby hearth
eyeing the icon covered walls
and the coming and going of lovers and friends
through a garden to cheat death
to capture memory and life
swimming in that deep invitation
the succulent moorland dripping
and feather-robed Crow Charlie
whose days were spent roaming the high ground
watching horse-back shepherds and calling the granite
“thee blood stone”………


Original draft - 18/5/99
This draft 5/3/06