In Godolphin Woods
The sycamore has sensuous bark
With plush layers of greenish moss
Its leaves are doorways into summer
As through the green we see the sun
The woods are filled with bluebell flowers
Awash with purple fringed blue haze
They flutter and sway like surfstrewn waves
When breezes crease the summer days.
Response to Philip Larkin’s “The Mower”
Carelessness costs lives; the wartime slogan
Still holds true as we destroy the planet,
While everyone pretends to be saving it.
Kindness comes too late, when death
Has already dragged the soul away
From mortal worlds. It is easy to lament
A needless loss, much harder to prevent.