When I consider the genetic maze
Which brings me to the rising of this day
And count, as stars across the winter sky,
The obstacles to Life along the way,
Then do I worship at the shrine of Chance
And flowers of ardour on her altar lay.
Let me not cease my grateful praise to sing
And, by my living, Life’s oblation pay.
18th January 2001
Did you hear the rain last night
Tapping on the window pane,
Asking me to let him in,
Did you hear the rain?
Did you see the lightning flash
White against my bedroom door,
Asking me to let him in,
Did you hear him roar?
Did you hear the night owl cry
Over by the garden wall,
Asking me to let him in,
Did you hear him call?
Did you see the waning moon
Shine upon my bed of pine,
Asking me to let him in,
Did you see him shine?
Did you see the shooting star
Fall to earth across the night,
Asking me to let him in,
Did you see his flight?
No, I slept the whole night through,
Nothing heard and nothing saw,
Laughed and played on other shores,
Dreamt and nothing more.
July 1980
The path through the beech trees is frozen and white
And the forest lies covered in snow,
And I’m a great hunter with shotgun held tight
Which I carry wherever I go.
I’m not very frightened though the woods are so dark
And bears hide behind every tree,
The things I don’t like are the tracks in the snow
Which insist upon following me.
They are too big for squirrels and too small for lions
Or tigers, or wolf cubs or bear;
Though their shape is familiar and I’d know them again,
When I turn there is no creature there.
It’s a little alarming, even scaring I’d say,
For a clever young hunter like me
To know while I’m hunting alone in the woods
That some other beast’s hunting me.
I’ve spoken to Mummy, she says “It’s all right,
Don’t be frightened, don’t worry, there, there!”
But she doesn’t go hunting, doesn’t know what it’s like
To be followed by something out there.
And the strange thing I’ve noticed when hunting is done
And I trudge home again through the snow,
The tracks follow me homewards right up to my door,
Where they go after that I don’t know.
10 April 1975
I have a homing instinct for the stars 