Writing

On St Swithin's Day

Path to a pool, walking image unfurling. Temple Avenue.  Sky comes

down here.  Rain in rivulets of cut stone.  Precisely, waiting words are filled

with slivers of gold from that one tree's falling.  Here now for me was this

moment anticipated?

God's architecture and ours.  One could invite the other, and each us,

uniquely.  In Time, words and worlds we have been offering may become

One again.  Invisibly, very probably.  Events.  Exposed to winds we could

not, dare not see.

It is happening.  Now as before, as tomorrow, differently.  Outside.

Published in Chapman  No 78-79 (1994) Ian Hamilton Finlay issue