Narcissi in North Devon
Stranger-angels
gathering in your coteries
along the grassy hillocks and hedge-line banks
come from the eyrie of your under other worlds,
it’s your star-studded moment.
How you welcome me on my way
this stormy-day of wind-rage,
nodding encouragement
you wave breezily
like yellow-hatted Royals.
This is your path
way to find out who you are
we are your poem
moving your words along their way,
you call.
I came to you the wrong way round –
through the eyes of a wandering nomad poet,
noting your iconic status as golden textual hosts
and before that,
as floral Easter tributes in my childhood church.
I’d always known your story, but
there was disjunct between those who wrote your text
swayed by patriarchal ruse
and now
in this place
Her meadows
you make your annual resurrection,
beckon me to witness your lift from the abyss.
Today, through the…
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David Coldwell 