A Poem from Alan Martin

I could settle right here, like alluvia,
in this slow paced verdant vale,
where the river wanders,
and events unfold
in their own good time
according to light.I will allow, unstriven,
and she will respond
as, unencumbered by ego,
she has to. I could allow brambles,
yes, that’s what I’ll allow,
and be tolerant of tangles
and their rampant disorder,
a haven barbed and barred
to my grossness and softness,
but a resource
for the troglodyte wren,
a habitué of hidey holes,
and in the spiny shadows.
a mousey sanctum too. Brambles I’ll keep,
in accesible aisles to grow
and on a midsummer’s day
I’ll watch as my bees
from the flowers of thorn
their sustenance reap. I will keep integral,
yes, that’s just how I’ll hold
the days and the months
straight with my actions
guided by light. I will walk plenty
and go nowhere at all,
I will work steady and never complete,
or even commence:
the river shall flow. And then I will pass,
without any wake,
never having emerged,
not so that notice would take.

Carw August ’21