From cock-crow to Tilley lamp
Counted my treasures,
Brought out from the safe
Of my soul, one by one.
A sliver of violet
Fresh from a rainbow,
A smile for each day of the week
Stacked up, healing breath of the sun.
The smell of fresh hay,
A thousand years old,
Caress of beech leaf
Homeward bound,
Miracle mushrooms,
Soft as marshmallows
Slipping up through pores
In the ground.
Eva Cassidy’s golden voice
Bathing in early morning rain,
Newcastle Forest at dusk
Model of Heaven in green,
Gambolling lamb,
Flash of brown trout
Side-glances of love
Heart stopping; too seldom seen.
And I packed up my treasures
In a gold genie bottle
To let them get close
To each other by night.
At new dawn as an alchemist
Pulled out the stopper
You flew out and filled up
My senses and sight.
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