Botanising in our Seventies
Kindly let me know, old friend –
while we walk my park-round,
admiring trees, grass, flowers –
their names, if they come to mind?
Yet – too late to memorize names
of trees, grasses, wildflowers.
Enough to know the way they look.
This rich tree has leaves that splay
like fingers, these pale flowers
close at dusk, open for the sun.
Grasses’ seed-heads swell and lean.
I carry them unnamed
as images seeking the real
from morning to next morning,
from last season to this season,
this year to the one beyond
(should there be one for us)
when new fingers splay forth
and buds open reliably
whether or not we pass their way.
Wednesday 28 January 2009
Max Richards
Doncaster, Vic
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