The Girton Poetry Group

Not Averse

Epicycle

Wake.

Feel the water.  Push out below,

tendrils into the dark and damp.  Now push out above,

buds into the waxing light, the spring rain.  Throw open

the fire-coloured temptations, welcome in

the roaming bees.

Feel the fire.  Spread out a green canopy

in the warming sunlight.  Soak up the rays and the air.

Transform the coloured flower into coloured flesh

and hide a secret inside.

Feel the air.  Turn in the four winds.  Broadcast the secret

to earth, as far away as it will go.  Let the browns

and reds and golds replace the greens.  Now throw the canopy too

to the winds, let it whirl away

into the encroaching dark.

Feel the earth.  Feel the water return

to the dry ground.  Let the cooling dark

settle around and about, under and over.

Complete another ring.

Sleep.