Larksong (Excerpt)
A laverock in its house of air is singing
May morning, May morning, and its trills drift
High on the flatland's abstract hill
In the down-below of England.
Liquid Light (excerpt)
A liquid light sips dew
From how it is as blossoms foam
With Mary's arboreal aplomb
Against a reminiscent blue.
Day, number, memory,
Kissed hours when day's door hangs ajar
And light crawls on the calendar,
Each routine anniversary
At night, and noon, and dawn,
Are times I meet you, when souls rinse
Together in their moist reunions.
Anniversaries (excerpt)
Day by nomadic day
Our anniversaries go by,
Dates anchored in an inner sky,
To utmost ground, interior clay.
It was September blue
When I walked with you first, my love,
In Roukenglen and Kelvingrove,
Inchinnan's beech-wood avenue.
That day will still exist
Long after I have joined you where
Rings radiate the dusty air
And bangles bind each powdered wrist.
The Kaleidoscope (Excerpt)
To climb these stairs again, bearing a tray,
Might be to find you pillowed with your books,
Your inventories listing gowns and frocks
As if preparing for a holiday.
Or, turning from the landing, I might find
My presence watched through your kaleidoscope,
A symmetry of husbands, each redesigned
In lovely forms of foresight, prayer and hope.
- Douglas Dunn
