from 'Entries on Light'

Sunday. I woke
   from a raucous night of
seagulls, shafts of sun
   in old bazaars where motes spun

on an abacus for angels.
   Do you long
to go back to that childhood
   the angels asked

in a grown-up body?
   the everlasting blue enquired
as I woke
   to skies washed clean of dust

and churchbells.
   From the acorn of the blind
such seas came
   such tall grave oaks!

Acorn-greys
   of the sea, its pennant rocks
...