We’re well into the days of blurred outlines, misty mornings, with
snowdrops up, crocuses peeping through. And, even from hilltops, the world is beautifully half-seen. This poem is a Terza rima, which has a very specific rhyme scheme and is a challenge to write …
LANDSCAPE (Terza rima)
Secrets held in their piercing height,
ancient houses with outlines blurred
are ghosts half-hidden from my sight.
Then the haze is cut by a bird
which brings me to a reality
where spirits are a murmured word
and shadows hold eternity,
beyond things that will not be missed
without this present certainty
that all such beauty will persist
wherever mortal homes exist.
first published in Tower Poetry