Pagan Poetry
Tearful start to the new year as I always remember my
father on this day. ‘My name is Nobody’.
I am trying to bite the flesh from my Bella di Cerignola
olives & wondering whether my father passed
through
How could he fight for a foreign country?
He never spoke about the war apart from
the fact that he entered
& his love for Italian culture. I am listening
to Bjork & her angels of Vespertine
& getting wet eyes. At least next door has
this fine cd as well.
Let us reflect on his legacy to me, a love of
Italian culture (I did drift around
importantly, a love of our own countryside.
Reading Robert McFarlane’s ‘Wild Places’
brings back so many memories of being
‘out there’. His insightful comments
on the Clearances & the potato famine
are powerful too.
Perhaps I am just run down with this flu virus
that seems to have affected everything, the pc,
the car & me.
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