A Temporal Vision

A temporal vision That's what I had When I was a child I walked not as a lad, But as a lord, or was I a man Wandering wistfully, blissfully tall Wild and mad, hand in hand Ghost-like across the land Through fields of thick, low-lying fog Did I trace the wind backwards through its red iron clay root? Trace it back to the core of a cavern in the mouth of a cave Back into them, dank, dark smells of England's thorn and fire Green oaks tall as a bluebell's spire English yew's soft, scented, with a slow-growing desire. A temporal vision A fox, a hare, a nightingale's stoic stares The spleen of a river cutting through...stone, sky, and air Bringing with it mouth-watering joys of despair. In a country lane Where a noise-filled highway, railway train- Disturbs a stoat A stickleback in its watery throat Electrical in her belly of light Where the white owl the flicker of a woodland, night Seethes in the silence with earth, roaring nerves Temporal as a winter's frost... Temporal with the joys of a childhood lost.