Comment 1

winter bells

diary, last week of february, 2019.


catch alsophila aescularia in a mason jar.
cirrocumulus clouds above you, baby’s breath in your hair.
the sky is almost the same colour now as the persian speedwell
that’s scattered about everywhere,
and a bumblebee is hovering sleepily about bethlehem sage.
it’s the first you’ve seen this year.
set out a teaspoon of sugar water.
an unusually mild february. everything is waking up early.


the sun is on your shoulders.
you’ve jasmine petals in your pockets,
and winter bells helleborus, too.
watch as a blackbird plucks red berries from a holly bush,
one, after another, after another.


“there are snowdrop valleys and swiss mountain trains and by-the-wind sailors and sweet peas sprouting second leaves, there are children with clattering cans chasing bad spirits back into the ocean, the blackthorns are blossoming and they’re guarded by…” –

what are you going to do?


the sea is not a surface.
you have called the gods by their names,
and now they form within us.

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