IN OUR PARTICULAR HATS

Do the white plum, cow parsley,
the thrush at the window
lose an hour?

__birds still carry twigs
__twigs still carry buds

Good Friday's hare
caught in the dish
of the moon

__one headlamp gone
__we can't race the clouds

soft verges, flat Coke cans,
soon there will be
sand and sandwiches

__her bri-nylon swimsuit
__see-thru when wet

trace the body-map
count freckle-stars –
how to just love?

__a rinsed clearing
__in the old wood

a city of ants
glistens
the scent of vinegar

__warmth in the black stones
__of the campfire

blood on the rooftops:
through burnished leaves, TV aerials
come images of the desert

__she weaves each retaliation
__into the kilim

the same silver shines
on men in perfect suits
in the White House

__once there were a thousand tales
__now there’s only one

in the silence
the hot water bottles gurgle
to one another

__the room breathes out
__and settles

coming down the stairs
into the kitchen
washing-up

__laundry in a tangle
__the thrush back at the window

wild
daffodils
fluting

__in our particular hats
__can the rain not rain?

a nijuuin renga in Spring
Dharmavastu, Walton
27 March, 2005 (Vernal Equinox)

Participants

Alec Finlay (master)
Subhadassi (master)
Abigail Priddle
Abhya
Beth Rowson
Darshan
Linda France
Sinhendra