GILLIAN CLARKE

Selected Poems

Dyddgu Replies to Dafydd

All year in open places, underneath

the frescoed forest ceiling,

we have made ceremony

out of this seasonal love.

Dividing the leaf-shade as divers white

in green pools we rose to dry

islands of sudden sun. Then

love seemed generosity.

Original sin I whitened from your

mind, my colours influenced

your flesh, as sun on the floor

and warm furniture of a church.

So did our season bloom in mild weather,

reflected gold like butter

under chins, repeatedly

unfolding to its clock of seed.

Autumn, our forest room is growing cold.

I wait, shivering, feeling a

dropping sun, a coming dark,

your heart changing the subject.

The season coughs as it falls, like a coal;

the trees ache. The forest falls

to ruin, a roofless minster

where only two still worship.

Love still, like sun, a vestment, celebrates,

its warmth about our shoulders.

I dread the day when Dyddgu's once

loved name becomes a common cloak.

Your touch is not so light. I grow heavy.

I wait too long, grow anxious,

note your changing gestures, fear

desire's alteration.

The winter stars are flying and the owls

sing. You are packing your songs

in a sack, narrowing your

words, as you stare at the road.

The feet of young men beat, somewhere far off

on the mountain. I would women

had roads to tread in winter

and other lovers waiting

.

A raging rose all summer falls tosnow,

keeps its continuance in

frozen soil. I must be patient

for the breaking of the crust.

I must be patient that you will return

when the wind whitens the tender.

underbelly of the March grass

thick as pillows under the oaks.