By Stour’s waters, on a day
Of summer mists and sunlight pale,
I saw the tower of Dedham Church
And heard its bell across the Vale.
Yet time stood still for angels passed
In golden cohorts overhead,
And, like the play of light on hills,
The glory of their presence spread.
My blest companions drank with me
The silence of that mystic hour,
And, by their passing, stirred for me
The healing waters of the Stour.
April 1990
I’ve gathered all the windfalls
And made a roadside stall,
I’ve put them in a little box
Upon the garden wall.
I hope somebody buys them,
They’re very good, you see,
They’re good for apple crumble
Or bramble jam for tea.
I’ve washed and dried the apples
And polished every one,
If you pass by you’ll see them
All shining in the sun.
I think somebody’s stopping
Beside my roadside stall,
I hope they like my apples
And maybe buy them all.
For Lucy
There’s a hedgehog in the woodbine
Beside the garden gate,
Who goes out walking every night
When it is very late.
Our Tuppy doesn’t like him,
He barks and jumps around,
He really doesn’t understand
Why hedgehog makes no sound
But rolls himself into a ball
And lies there very still,
Till Tuppy loses patience
As playful puppies will.
For Tuppy loves his basket
Upon the bedroom floor,
He goes in when they call him
And Grandpa locks the door.
But hedgehog is nocturnal
And when we are a-bed,
He does his midnight shopping
And sleeps all day instead.
3 September 1979
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
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