He was a sorcerer, that poet, I thought ...

Early this morning, before seven, I saw a crow - 

I was outside the warm house, in the still garden - 

Inside, Anne and Tessa were drinking green tea - 

There was wood ash on the hearth from last night's fire - 

Words were hoarded in foxed volumes - 

I'd looked up to see the crow - 

There he was, gazing down at my world from the tower - 

How could I describe this crow, I thought, without thinking of Ted Hughes' dark burning verses - 

He was a sorcerer, that poet, I thought - 

06.35

Tuesday 15 March 2016

The garden

The Old School House

East Stoke 

Dorset