George Shaw

Digitalis

Gone to seed now, but upright

after bending in the storm

that scattered garden

furniture on the lawn.

Last night, the wind

was wild – in the high

trees foliage like

feeding barracuda.

Up close the soft leaves

are like swans’ backs                                    

Bulbous pods in                          

pert collars                                  

orange-tipped each                                                        

with their umbilical hair          

Outside: Europe After The Rain

risen above drooping fuschias

improbable frottage

wreaked by growth.

Lower down the brown husks:

ghosts and emissaries.

The last heads of explorers.

Inside: Men Shall Know Nothing of This.

Nor foxes.