An Eden Conception
A raindrop, unaccountably round, plunges into Mallerstang; Eden valley, Victorian dark, the last great wilderness in England. People came here briefly; a monarch, a highwayman, a thief, an earl, a tramp to see rivers rise – the Ouse and Eden - and if this raindrop falls an atom’s width to the East, it runs away to York; a molecule West; Carlisle. On and on, the future forks and this drop will not travel both. Race into a great valley; ginger gorse: an undomesticated, wild, wet second world, happy when earth and wind decide what’s right and left, that it’s worth a surging newborn driving to a source: a smash, a violent birth. |
Although it looks like a pastoral poem, the concept came from feelings of creation - at the critical moment of conception!
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