Yesterday a poet died
Today I'll walk on grass barefoot, blades on my sole
crouch by the lavenders surviving- thriving- in half an inch of soil, mostly stones
and wait for bees and hummingbird hawkmoths dancing
for ants about their business, woodlice,
for evidence of spiders silver strung in wild clematis
and quick slick lizards.
I'll breathe in the honeysuckle, jasmine, roses mingled
clamour of blackcaps and redstarts
spring to summer songs
I'll look at clouds and colours, think of palettes, poetry
of Helen, clear and beautiful
her mother's helping hand, uplifting
welcomed home at last.
8th June 2017, Hounoux, In memoriam Helen Dunmore.
