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A series of lucid lyric poems that record close, unadorned observations of rural life and landscape, translating small natural details into larger reflections. The verses move between descriptions of seasons, weather, birds and lanes and inward meditations on memory, loss, and the passing of time. Tone shifts from quiet wonder to restrained melancholy, sometimes addressing a companion or reader directly and often turning outward observation into personal rumination. Formally compact, the poems favor clear diction, controlled rhythms, and imagistic economy. Arranged as discrete lyrics rather than a continuous narrative, the sequence invites repeated readings to unfold its layered moods and associations.
Make me content
With some sweetness
From Wales
Whose nightingales
Have no wings,—
From Wiltshire and Kent
And Herefordshire,
And the villages there,—
From the names, and the things
No less.
Let me sometimes dance
With you,
Or climb
Or stand perchance
In ecstasy,
Fixed and free
In a rhyme,
As poets do.