winter solstice (an apology)

 

 

I've a house of centuries ago

with a twenty-five thousand tile roof

 

commodities are from before the great war

progress in its roughest of moods

 

there's miracle current in copper wires

I turn the switch with some fear

 

piped water comes out of an outside tap

never failing and always clear

 

my stove burns as fine on bottled gas

as the best of city street lighting

 

and around me the night is midwinterly quiet

owned by rooks and crows and the rare roaming soul

large rambling trees stand pre-christianly naked

rochepeau creeps uphill to the belt of orion

of neolithic solstice-offerings they murmur

the streams, the daughters of daughters of streams

 

I would miss the point if I was at your party

 

(Nerèt, Le Berry fr., dec/jan 2002/03)