June 21, 2017 by Sez
The last poetic answer is for the questions never asked.
It is, of course, as all these poems are, for Sam.
You never asked me, but I’ll always tell you:
That bird’s a heron. That one’s called a dipper,
And that’s the River Sheaf, and this is sorrel,
And these are hawthorn buds we would have tasted,
And these are bilberries that would have stained us
And foxes live round here. And so do badgers.
And we would have come out sometimes, at nightfall,
To look for them together. I’d have told you:
Those stars are called Orion, just like you are.
You’ll never ask, but I will always tell you.
I love you, and I love you, and I love you.