From an upstairs window here at home,
the double line of ragged hills looks flat
as file dividers in slightly different tones
of blue. The thrill of finding a wide realm
between them! Old farms with undead yellow elms,
immense bronze globes of oaks, silver power lines,
field beyond field like undiscovered rooms
in semi-lucid dreams, the shaggy grasslands
where owls bomb down on voles. Among maize haulms,
a stone like a misformed egg has cracked wide open
where the plough has caught it, and there’s a whole
tiny intricate crystal world within it.
It’s time to draw back and close the cabinet.
Mark Totterdell’s poems have appeared widely in magazines and have occasionally won competitions. His collections are This Patter of Traces (Oversteps Books, 2014) and Mapping (Indigo Dreams Publishing, 2018).