Canticle: A poem by Martha Sprackland

6 February 2016 // Poetry

for cushioned nights of thunder and thick air
when all the floodgates of the sky have burst
and drench the town in summer storms
enriched by rising dust from roads and pollen
from the wetted heads of honeysuckle and catchfly
one small sheltered corner, nooked between the trellis
and the compost bin, keeps a lee of pale grey stone
beyond the reach of the darkening rain
where the curl of leaf is not plastered to the ground
and a bright-eyed animal stays perfectly dry
its powdery fur as pale and patient as the moon
(which also waits and watches from behind the cloud
for the melodrama of the orange light
to blow itself out, and come to sleep)

Martha will be joining us at London’s Bush Hall on Sunday 28 February. More info/tickets.

Martha Sprackland on Caught by the River.

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