Martin Robertson

Now and Then

The Grass Road

I stepped out of my thoughts

and saw the grass road straight between dark hedges

patchworked with green and grey

and flecked with white of large convolvulus caught

among blackberry-flowers with torn edges

and honeysuckle drooping antlered sprays

pink, gold and white, sweetening the light stillness

by bird-notes pierced but not dispersed

while easy coolness

lay aloft against my skin.

Why are we always thinking

since being is so pleasant?

I thought, and the door closed as I stepped in.