The geographer – poem for dVerse

I scrawl my words on every blade of grass,
scribble them in the sand, twig scratch them
on the winter clouds,

and the line the plough makes
is the line of my words
is the line the plough makes,

and birdsong creeps in, and the sound
the wind makes

and the curve of the deep lane

and the rhythm of the sea
as it sweeps in and out, and the
skittering of pebbles

and the line the waves make
is the line of my words
is the line the waves make

and each verse is a green field,
and each verse is a tree
and each verse is a sea-smoothed stone

and I write an orchard,
a daisy, a pool formed
in the ruts in the lane,
mud holding water:
water holding the sky.

Anmol is hosting at dVerse tonight, and asks us to think about geography. I am deeply influenced by my surroundings – the geography seeps in everywhere, and I think my poetry is infused with a sense of place. It was interesting to focus on that feeling and try to put it into words.

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