Paul HADFIELD Poems

</></>At the thought's end
The eye, tracing your lineage, falters
Yet Nature is immune tto imperfection
Words, cararacts
...

</></>Three decades past
WAs I exacting Doreen Birch
Whose innocence (a captious word)
Was wreathed
...

</></></>The days were bright
But the inevitable rain, the summer long
Came. Below the window, tentative
Over the rough sarking pinned
...

They come in hundreds.'Clinker built! '. They watch,
Quay-rooted or cautious on wrack-smooth rock
A bright-bouyed boat, fast to the leeward limb
Of Inis Saimer.' Hier sind vir! ? '. The turbine's tail
...

I forgot
To empty
The teapot.
Flowers spring
...

After three days they shuttled him away
A short slow distance
From his longest home
Transported him
...

</></></>The dead and buried share a plot
Divided by a turfy path
From Sidh Beag to the water's edge
The narrow road from life to death.
...