A stitchwort shift, a bluebell shawl,
I’ll cast aside in dancing;
hart’s tongue moist, fox gloves tall,
blossom frail, confetti fall,
I’m eager for the asking.
For I can call the fat cuckoo
from Broomy Hill to Dol-y-Cannau;
smooth frogspawn for my lover’s pillow
down in Dinedor’s dells.
Eels easy slip damp meadows soft;
barn owls ghost, unseen;
badgers dig for brooding wasps,
scatter paper, fluster moths,
to feast upon a queen.
For I can see fey gloworms beckon
along faint tracks from Leinthall Starkes,
sisters beyond coiled adders’ bracken
down in Llangarron’s valley.
Haws and rosehips; rain-jewelled hedges;
sloes darken tangled thorns.
Breathe deep, tread light; flame leaves now pledge
renewal fed by little deaths,
a rich bed to keep you warm.
For I can hear the insects scurry,
as hedgehogs feast in Beggars Ash.
We’ll harvest truffles, juicy berries
down in Hoarwithy hollow.
Burning apple wood, sweet-smoked bright,
you’ll naked wait my coming.
Beyond Imbolc flames, snow drift white,
beyond paw-tracked path, moon’s icy light,
I’ll rest my ceaseless roaming.
For I can waken dead that lie
beneath the crust of Sugwas and St Weonards;
whispers linger, deeds gone by
down in Kymin’s cwm.
*this poem first appeared on the Ledbury Poetry Festival Apple Orchard page.
Myfanwy Fox is a biologist who now manages a charity shop on the Malvern Hills. Her poems have been published in anthologies and magazines including The Morning Star, Ink, Sweat and Tears and many others. She is a regular at Malvern’s ConFab Cabaret and has read at Ledbury Poetry Festival, Swindon Poetry Festival, Worcestershire Lit Fest and other events. She blogs at myfanwyfox.wordpress.com.