from A Bunch of Tales
In quiet hills nigh lilac light.
Like milky bottle-brushes of the bistort dock.
And how the dandelion lost her clock.
And when the sorrel found no will to fight
a rain of peace fell from the stars so hard
I took to shelter like a rabbit
in one of the delfstone tenements, just another
snout pointing out until it stops.
The shower shocked.
Michael Haslam