The Spirit Level

(She) was like a silver vein in heavy clay.

Night water glittering in the light of day.

Love brought me that far by the hand, without

The slightest doubt or irony, dry-eyed

And knowledgeable, contrary as be damned;

Then just kept standing there, not letting go.

Drive them back to the wine dark taste of home,

The smell of damsons simmering in a pot,

Jam ladled thick and steaming down the sunlight.

Flight of small plinkings from a dulcimer

Like feminine rhymes migrating to the north

Where you faced the music and the ache of summer

And Earth's foreknowledge gathered in the Earth

And if the glazes, as you say, bring down the sun,

Your potter's wheel is bringing up the earth.

At that stage you were swimming in the sea

Or running from it, luminious with plankton,

A nymph of phosphor by the Norder See.