Tuesday, 10 December 2019
Tuesday 10th December - Advent Book Club 10
Winter Rain Memories
Every valley drinks, and suddenly the music from
Every dell and hollow: 'Messiah' is filling my head, as
Where the kind rain sinks and sinks, Isaiah is one of the other things
Green of Spring will follow. I am reading in Advent
Yet a lapse of weeks As I drive along the lanes to the
Buds will burst their edges, various village schools I visit
Strip their wool-coats, glue-coats, streaks, I notice the hedges and trees.
In the woods and hedges;
Weave a bower of love I look for the first leaves in the
For birds to meet each other, hedges, the first daffodils and
Weave a canopy above primroses.
Nest and egg and mother. I watch the rooks rebuilding
their nests, sitting on their eggs
But for fattening rain
We should have no flowers,
Never a bud or leaf again And there's a particular chestnut
But for soaking showers; tree by the road that I look for
to see the leaves explode from
Never a mated bird the buds, and the candle-flowers
In the rocking tree-tops, growing tall.
Never indeed a flock or herd
To graze upon the lea-crops.
Lambs so woolly white,
Sheep the sun-bright leas on,
They could have no grass to bite Today was a grey and dank and
But for rain in season. wet and cold. So I didn't do
any 'nature appreciation'.
We should find no moss I had my head tucked into my
In the shadiest places, collar and my eyes half-closed
Find no waving meadow-grass against the horrible weather.
Pied with broad-eyed daisies; I wonder what I missed seeing?
But miles of barren sand, When I was a teenager, my
With never a son or daughter, parents lived in Indonesia.
Not a lily on the land, I remember the long haul flights
Or lily on the water. (we used to stop in Bahrain back
then!) across hours and hours
We should find no moss of what seemed like an
In the shadiest places, un-ending desert - brown,
Find no waving meadow-grass sandy, red, grey... no greens,
Pied with broad-eyed daisies; apparently feature-less;
But miles of barren sand, miles of barren sand
With never a son or daughter,
Not a lily on the land,
Or lily on the water.