Doubtless, self-exile would quicken the visionary
Gleam of Eden and some Celtic fervour!
But added to the interplay of perception and memory
That adorns our now and encourages us further
To count each blessing, is a hope preserver:
This is realization that our art subject, like life,
Is full of neat surprises that shift
Our vista of the present and save us from the strife
Of creation; for the patterns we see uplift
Never so well as Nature’s gift.
Health and curiosity now sink to their eyes
In a Sphagnum bog in the quest for harmony
With the mystery of Nature. Closer than surmise
About the earth I touch, earth touches me
Suddenly, where I linger in gloom and lethargy.
Symbolic, a chestnut grace becomes
My eloquence: ‘Kite! Over there, a Red Kite!’
Milvus milvus plucks me from doldrums,
Proclaiming its come-back in a victory flight
From near extinction from British sight.
Just hanging on by its dinky talons -
Pairing for life - eyes eight times keener -
It certifies all beauty, and has the talent
To make my pigment eight times greener
For re-enchanting the world than a critic’s demeanour.