I wrote this poem sitting in the reading room in the Weston library, where a friend brought me after a brisk walk in the fresh February air. It is to go with an illustration by DH and Amie and will be a birthday present for a dear friend.
Some things just must be said
Some things just say themselves
If only for a mouth
I just need to sit here and watch the fire
And know it
That it works and has worked for all time
That it is showing itself
And I would be an oracle for it
Is that what we are
The ones who can say it poetically
And once we have said it
Are we done here?