Saffron headlands, sweet
Almond smelling, alive with
Bees pollinating;
Blue glass water on shingle
Lapping, time lapping on me.
Oh that you could feel
This sun, breathe in this heavy
Air and see with me
The gorse afire on Beauport,
Golden in silence.
Jersey 1966/67
I have a secret for you,
Let me whisper in your ear,
You mustn’t tell another soul,
I don’t want them to hear.
Just bend a little lower
And turn your face this way,
Now shut your eyes and listen
To what I have to say:
Of all the people in the world,
Of things and creatures too,
The one I love the best of all
Is somebody called You!
1980
When finally the boatman comes
To ferry me across the Styx,
Don’t stay to wave me out of sight
But turn again to living things.
Turn back towards the healing sun
And in some patch of cherished earth
Scatter a wilderness of phlox,
Of lilac, foxgloves, hollyhocks,
That from my shore, with straining eyes,
I see their spires of blossoms rise
And catch upon a straying wind
The fragrance of their scent and yours.
November 1989
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
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