Wednesday, 3 April 2013

Reynard

Now you’ll see him, now you won’t, as twilight
sparks up the poppies, hollyhocks and pines
beside the cottage, where a devilment
of bees savours your lavender, and finds
his trailing brush and whiskery ears. You’ll
not help but notice his caper and smirk
as he evanesces over the wall
into Great Wood. Lanterns will stem the dark.
You’ll repeatedly click apart, together,
snapdragons’ mustard-and-cochineal jaws;
inhale sweet peas’ pinkness; be surprised
by the trickster stealing up through heather.
Magenta speckles in foxglove corollas
will kaleidoscope night behind your eyes.

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