North Tawton

“stump-warts,

you called them”

—Ted Hughes, “Error,”

Birthday Letters

______________________

Staring out the window—

The sunken church & graveyard

The black slate roofs—

The inaccessible clouds above

The submarine trees—

Rooted deep in the labyrinth

Hedge row full of secrets—

Traffic on Market & Exeter

This is what I’ve chosen—

A rainy North Tawton day

And now a gone husband—

A graveyard, a wedding picture

His unseen bones down there—

Still undergoing the changes