I saw a bride splendid in white garments
I saw a woman with one hundred children 
The children plump and firm within her arms,
But some fell down or strangers took and ate them

Dada has stories from Calcutta
wrapped up in his big belly.
When he belched they would unravel.

Forest could keep secrets
Forest could keep secrets

It's five past three.
Sixty-four eyes look at me.
No. Sixty-two.
Not Matthew.
He hasn't learnt to read my face.
He's got digital. A disgrace!
I reach to ten.

'Why do you run?' I asked the river,
'So fast I can't compete.'
'I run,' the river said, 'because
I have some streams to meet.'

The willow and the wind
are natural dancing partners;
look how the willow weeps
with the joy of movement,
skillfully rooted to the spot.

In our flat
faces speak
of places across the sea.

In our flat
voices walk in
talking, but not like me.

Spring is baby,
bright, fresh and new,
gurgling with the melting snow,
singing with the first cuckoo.

At dawn, she climbs over the horizon
to slink between the curtains
and rest her head on your pillow.

This morning she got up
On the happy side of the bed,
Pulled back
The grey sky-curtains
And poked her head
Through the blue window
Of heaven,