Poem Number 14

ANOTHER DAY


I let another day slip by,
but what could I have done ?

Walked the Wolds last night
under a harvest moon

waking in a dewy hedge
to the mist-wreathed sun

putting all the noisy owls
to bed - it’s breakfast soon;

but I went on walking
towards the soothing waves

through the dry valleys
of luminous chalk

a fine dawn to explore
the smugglers’ caves

and then proceed
on my autumn walk;

it’s glorious to be
lost in beauty

or simply pause
at a pretty spot

and it’s also
a delightful duty

to do those things
others might not;

old friends would
be impressed

if I told them about
the ancient barn

how beauty
simply undressed

as I span her some
fantastic yarn -

a kind of history
of the northern folk

the wanderers, who
forgot how to wander

and lost the knack for
wearing morning’s cloak;

believing the modern
world’s propaganda



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