Today as I cleared up the mayhem a fox had wreaked on a rubbish bag in our road I recalled reading A Fox’s Late Winter blessing from the collection at Silver Street Poetry on Friday. I also read the poem below, which as well as mourning a dead friend, mentions planting peas. Not surprisingly on Sunday I was planting peas, and today I found myself replying to Bethan Rees of the Fire and Bees website (and on 4th April there she talks about sonnets). She’s planning to use my sonnet in a podcast on poetry as therapy. Anyway, the broad beans in Horfield are looking promising, the foxes are still making a racket, and here’s the poem
Firming the soil
It’s just as well that you’re not here today,
you wouldn’t see the point in clearing weeds.
I’ll see you in the pub I’d hear you say.
Yes, be there soon. I’d go on spacing seeds.
You’d get the drinks in, ask what took so long
so I’d explain about the beans and peas
and you’d concede you wished that you were strong
then we’d discuss the course of your disease.
Remember how we launched our ships for Troy
or was it Barcelona after all?
So were we heroes? What did we destroy?
Now half of what we did I can’t recall.
I firm the soil. You went on ahead.
Like Ulysses, I’m questioning the dead.