To you my dearest chick I send this night
My love and birthday greetings, that they may
Like blossom from some Maytime fruit tree fall
Upon your pillow as you lie asleep,
And linger on your eyes and on your lips
And every part of you that I do know,
And tell you in your dreaming how I miss
Your patient love and gentle womanhood.
To Judy in Italy on her birthday
1966
Two lovers walked in Bluebell Wood
And said the words that lovers should,
And did the things that lovers do,
When all the world is green and blue.
8th April 1990
After the warm spells
Come rain and cold winds.
Skies are wet blankets
And March is miserable.
Like a young tortoise,
Without weather lore,
Caught sunning too soon,
I retreat quickly
Into the warm house.
The baby whinges
Wanting to go out,
He is not consoled
By crumpets for tea.
Judy knits quietly
Deep in the green chair.
The ball of wool shrinks
And she grows rounder.
When the second comes
It will be Summer.
March 1971
I have a homing instinct for the stars 
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