january pastoral
Post on 30-Sep-2016
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JOHN HOLLOWAY
January pastoral See, aconites’
drowsy butter-ice: index of new things coming. Why though should such glister, glitter, now mean
as a child one day, dismounted for the earliest primrose in the Weald, and pealed a jubilant cycle-bell; and have rejoiced
I have my wish. But a wish for simply, no new thing swallow-flash or other festival of spring. This slush we
seagulls blustered inland, to whirl roistering Atlantic at us along a Force Eleven raving intact over hours of
counties to this needle in the key-hole or surprised chimney-note, the hard book I plod through by a whitening fire and silence
beyond the quiet wall, are enough; after those few simple but now changeless words spoken, we need no new thing.
little, to me who
times since; till now
trudge in, all those
’ elm-derelict snowy
wind-hacked but only
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