And once the beeches rang
thereabouts
to the dour cuckoo call
and the jackdaws' scolding curses
and jack the lad stealing kisses
from the likeliest of lasses
fleet fled all flushed to hide
bushed and brambled where the landfill lies
in truth, of little consequence

Was there a stream or did I dream
the gliding frogs
and the damp-quivering dogs
and the flickering fish riding the flow
and the rippling reeds' marching ranks
running the flanks all down the banks
where oblivion's tide has been concreted in
the tired beck diverted, culverted
and soaked away to such little consequence

And once in the magick fire of consummation
flaming desire would bring to the birchshade two
for this once upon a time to become one
exploding up through the canopy of green
at the edge of the shingled wood
to take love's wing
in the sprawling endless bluesky
now embossed with rooflines' outlines
and so clearly of little consequence

Over there beneath those humming streets
lays the great lark-guarded meadow
court where the greatest lord of all the oaks held sway
for a twisting, wrinkling thousand years
of timeless peace and tall grasses growing listlessly
in the softsweet breeze that seemed eternal
until the star fallen from the mighty crown
brought down a twinkle of dust to sire this simple celandine
a thing of little consequence