When rain falls a (grey) veil
from a sombre sky
where no (light) strikes sparks
of fire from poppy (and) rose
(I sink) to the level of mud and sodden grass
poke fingers (in) the loosening clay
to feel life (writhing) beneath
and deeper still
the fiery (veins of) the earth’s (blood)
Cold seeds salamander-coddled
need (no hope) in tomorrow
to burst (in) green sappy stalks
leaf and flower-furled.
fire calls to fire and the tides shift moon-struck.
Between fire and (falling) rain I wait
with the patience of a seed
for the wheel to turn to sunburst.