Back to Nature
i.m. J.S.
You liked to sleep out
at the edge of your garden
under a scatter of stars
tucked into your bivouac
on a bed of leaves
soothed by a soft breeze
drift over the South Downs
the smell of honeysuckle
after rain the rustle
of hedgehogs in the compost
to wake with birdsong
your face spritzed with dew
on the other side of time
I see you walk The Lane
with Edward Thomas
in your beloved Steep
under silent beech and yew
the scent of wild rose
sounds of song-thrush
a distant cuckoo calling
the bees hum the hiss
of wind in meadow-grass
a swift rising over
a shiver of aspens
or are you exploring
another galaxy
held in moonlight