Beauty and Truth

Wide shimmer of mountains
and sky. From Horn Head we
threw stones at bright ocean.
How tiny our leisure!

Then back as the lane wound,
guessing at wildflowers;
after so much, now
our instinct for detail

scaled to man's uses:
harebells in crevices;
that post rubbed by cattle;
stacked turves; sunken trickling.

A turn found the cottage,
ledged sunning and roofless
enclosing a culture
of thistles and nettles,

arched by a sycamore
...