Stephen Boyce 

Particulars

(Duncliffe from Fifehead Magdalen)

 

Escapees from what must once have been

a manorial estate, two Scots pine

stand tall beside the approach road

    wearing the scars of their years.

 

A buzzard mobbed by crows finds me 

taking notes behind the hedge, 

is spooked and veers off awkwardly 

    over untended meadow.

 

None of which matters except in this moment, 

and in the repetition

    of these particulars: buzzard,

crows, hedgerow, open field, Scots pine

 

on the road to Fifehead – at this time 

    next year and in all the years thereafter.

Threshold

(Margaret Marsh)

 

The churchyard gate opens both ways.

    Release the pendulum latch

and a double hinge, like the gaping beaks 

    of two eager nestlings, catches 

the ironwork, its lichen and flaking rust, 

    letting it swing free at a hand’s touch,

out beneath the wedding arch, in under 

    the lychgate – barely a pause between.