Cleeve Knolls

To the Whispering Beech of Cleeve Hill

Soft shake
sculpts the surge
                          as strung out twists,
the permanent forms of the blast
proud in centrifugal spin
                                        cross the five ways

Gold stater slipped in the Malverns purse
Their bulbous jointed horse
                                            clears the ditch
Triple whip-tailed
                             copper, iron, gold

Cirrus makes
                      slate-sliver
on the beacons, blue extrusion
as sky and valley
spreads its table for the day's crumbs

Lamb lands on a ewe's flat back
solicits no reaction
circular jaw
masticates the springing green

Watcher of the old bowed track
silent pinion on
                          serene scars
the cup and ring grained in the turf

As the wind sings down your
fluting ridge and furrow
you tingle with every voice
that ever cut this breeze

Whispering beacon, destiny cross
copper-crowned queen of knolls