I FEEL THE CONTINENTAL DRIFT


I FEEL THE CONTINENTAL                                                       DRIFT

                                              
of                                          shifting geography:
overhead;
the sun no longer 
                                                         an unfamiliar sea.

A jagged barrier reef surrounds                                                        
                                                                                                                an inaccesible shore
and                    ICE                              –               how thick I do not know
where    water           was        before.

 

Where is that quiet green valley
where       heron       and         kingfisher        flew?
A ridge of stone as bare as bone
BLOCKS IT FROM MY VIEW

 

A flat and recent Sahara
covers remembered hills
and over the top of  my childhood home
the     lurid     lava         s                    p                 i                  l                  l                   s.

 

NO feral  forces fed those fires 

that swept my past away.

NO howling hurricanes spread those flame
                                                 that turned night      to      brightest day.

 

NO           irresistible           seismic           thrust
                                                                                              that mountain range.

pushed  up 

 

Some
weakness
at
the heart of things
permitted                                        all                   this                            change.

SONNET 73


                                                        

That time of year thou mayst in me behold

                                     

when yellow leaves, or none, or few, do hang
 upon those boughs which shake against the cold,
 bare ruined choirs, where late the sweet birds sang.

In me thou see’st the twilight of such day
as after sunset fadeth in the west;
which by and by black night doth take away,
Death’s second self, that seals up all in rest.

In me thou see’st the glowing of such fire,
that on the ashes of his youth doth lie,

as the deathbed whereon it must expire,

consumed with that which it was nourished by.

Magdalen 1

This thou perceiv’st, which makes thy love more strong,

To love that well which thou must leave ere long.