Four Poems

Sunlight and shallow water,
rock, stones with red marks
like cuts of a rusty axe,
dark under hazel and alder,
broken white on blackened steps
and below the falls a cold pale green-
how shall I celebrate this,
   always present
under our sleep and thoughts,
where we do not see ourselves
   reflected
or know the language of memory
gathered from its fall?

Beidog running dark
    between us
and our neighbours, down
...