This gap in the hedge
is neither absence nor lack
but a green Moon – the frame
around the young Wheat beyond,
a heavenly gateway
that beckons us to quit the path,
its stiles and bridleways,
the blue willow-patterns of our thought,
and pass through this cunicle,
this cunning – finger its tender flowers,
its pitted stems, feel frissons
of what we once knew as holy.
Thereafter trust that the bird not
in the hand is worth a cunctipotence
in the bush, and reawaken the desire
for Life’s wild fecundity.
Helen Moore
Art: Claire Palmer