White Poplar in Gold Light

Populus alba

All day I carry it round in my head,
a halo of precious and priceless,
regretting my mind is autumn, must
shed even these astonishments.

I want to slip it on my finger – there –
ductile, platinum, twenty-four carat,
where I can thread myself through its lightness,
and (flesh and bone) bear the weight of it.

From: Reading the Flowers, Arc, 2016.

Posted: Tue 31 Dec, 2013