When all your plans have fallen through,
when all your men have proved boys
and horses are prone and mute by still water,
not colts bolting out over thunderous plains,
I shall appear, smiling, and you shall know
For I know you're out there somewhere
and I shall wait for you, the waiting out of mind.
A man for us both to discover, a woman broad as sky,
your stars like fruit to pluck, hot and near;
but now is not the time, and I shall have
There is time yet for the both of us,
before buttered toasted teacakes and cups of tea,
and there is much work to be done yet, much finding,
much harrowing: leaving fallow the field for spring.
Through winter's frosts and summer's ceaseless smile,
one day, to your seeds, I'll sing.