(in memoriam Roy Campbell, 1901-1957)
Wide-as-duck-waddles
and slow as fool
who pansies and dawdles
by sleep’s sodden pool.
Lift your head lightly,
watch the clouds change,
the wind shifting slightly
as you drift into range.
The sun burns like spoil
on the bruise of my eye,
should I hunker and coil
and bite back a cry?
One fuse for the flowers
and one for the fool,
I’ll count down the hours
till the trophy is You.