Bright blue sky day far from home

Met an experimental performance poet

Who likes to say words that rhyme with ‘an’

And make tiny sculptures from the wire cages

That hold corks onto champagne bottles

Swapped our books by a sunlit forest waterfall

Something mutual and unsaid in that

More than the gift of words on paper

Wandered around a secret Elizabethan garden

Clipped formal hedges and geometric forms

Collected a handful of fallen rose petals

Crushed in my hand they smelled like heaven

And I remembered

For a little while

Why I still walk abroad

On the face of the turning Earth

Dr Erica Wright  2014