Transition

A timbered enclosure protects the tower
Oak crossbeams transect the Great Hall
Rubble heaps block doorways to Lodge and Chantry

At last, a chance of shelter
Rushlight, the scent of moonflower
softwood kindling bursts from a corroded iron box

A curtain pulled to one side shows a small alcove
On a slate ledge, devotional bowls clustered in a circle
brim with burning herbs coltsfoot, golden rod, mimosa

We rest on the hearthrug
shadows merge into darkness

Later, we steal past the courtyard of Bouverie College
turn into a lane behind the library toward the boatsheds
drag a row boat down into St John's River


~ ~ ~


and the nice yellow moth
spent the whole night
on the kitchen cabinet
waiting for me to get up
and open the back door
with her big wings
and little brown bits
but the ratty house fly
head butts the window
and buzzes like he really
wants to die
and I've got a rogue tea bag
one of those that go black immediately
with blobs of broken biscuit
at the bottom of the cup
so I make a mug of coffee
but now I can't find it



~ ~ ~