Two days at Yorkshire Sculpture Park in this the barmiest summer I for one can ever remember. Blue skies, black skies, sun-scorched earth in abundance, and two of the best exhibitions of recent times.
All this to prepare a few poems for my Arvon course at the end of the month; of course with the diabetes blood-test due soon I was diligent, not an ice cream, nor a drop of alcohol passed my lips.
I must congratulate the Ibis Styles Hotel in Barnsley, for a good nights sleep, and for a first-rate cooked-to-order breakfast; just the job to start another hard day of poetry.
Top Of That Hill
(Lightning struck tree)
Could be the very metaphor
Amplified by the dark clouds of Yorkshire
Highlighted by the skies silver linings
The split trunk
Says much about divergence
The gold-leaf offshoot
Itself splits into two
Their fine points
Reaching ever upward
Yet it is the dark bark
A combination of brown and grey
With slivers of gold
Which looks strongest, which reaches highest
What we leave behind
May grow ever brighter
But in no way, no way whatsoever
Does it stunt our growth