Four Poems

Rain on South East England
This place is so much
Mauled, I have to think
Others beside these Dutch
And low green counties drink
The summer rains, before
I hold it in my mind
What a soft rain is for:
To ease, flush through, unbind.

Tightly starred, on the flat
Marred ground once, with a thin
Unambitious mat
I mended England's ruin.
Growth these last years works
My roots into the air;
Aspiring on long stalks,
My blooms digest no fare
...