FROSTS (written in 1975)

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It's about the weather, sex and the thought of death. Or have I got it all wrong? In the UK for six weeks and the weather is really dreadful. Surely it takes its toll and even if down for normal reasons the weather adds the finishing touches! (Can't wait to return to Italy & Thailand — 2016)

Frosts set hard their white teeth,

gleam in the pinched bark,

 

badgering.

 

Leaves on the white grit

lay their flagged sheets.

 

In the blood spills

the same slow bite

of frost. The worm on our bones

whitens our minds.

 

(Gentle fuses.)

 

 

 

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