Author Information
Learning To See
It was my time of the day, in the clean rain washed breezes
Between the treadmills of the morning milk and the daily death of school
Shotgun at shoulder, I was checking the snares in the high pastures
Between the green realm of the curlew and the wild heath of the harebell
Far to the west, seen clearly, the great white dish of Jodrell Bank
And distant, the faint first foothills of Wales.
Below me in the old stone get on Lidgets Lane
I saw a large estate car, lovers as I thought, asleep on the job.
No uncommon sight in the warm summer's dawn.
Later, laden with my rabbits and my lively polecat hob
I dragged my feet homeward and my spirits began to sink.
The dark clouds of school were looming ominous and near.
The car was still there. At the wheel was a large man, naked, bright pink.
The car, still running, had a hose from the rear.
Next to him on the seat was a sea of flowers, addressed to his wife.
It was my time of the day, in the late evening sunshine
Between the routines of the milk and the small death of the sleepy.
Shotgun at shoulder, I lay waiting below a wind wracked thorn
Between the green realm of the snipe and the wild heath of the wimberry
Far to the west, looming dimly, the dark shadows of Jodrell Bank
And the distant first foothills of Wales.
I lay waiting for the Vixen to awaken deep in the tumbled scree.
For it was near her time to leave her earth. In grouse hungry madness.
Far below an orange combine carved deep channels in a rippling sea of barley.
While the racing shadows of the valley ran to greet the coming darkness.
I watched a pair of siskins for the last half hour of sunlight,
Their tiny jewelled bodies dancing through the tangled gorse.
Far below the mowing stopped, the driver lit a cigarette.
While I watched a girl go by on her horse.
Too dark to see I dragged my feet homeward.
The dark clouds of school were looming ominously in my mind.
Dimly I saw the stooped figure by the combine's auger guard.
I saw his repeated attempts to light a cigarette in the cool rising wind.
It was my time of the day, in the clean morning air
Between the treadmills of the morning milk and the daily death of school
The milk tanker driver mentioned the dead farmer, "Your neighbour!
They found him with his arm trapped in the combine, dead, what a fool!"
Next to him, on the ground, they found a pile of cigarette ends
