this dark corner of the standing wheat,
from battle with the bitter rain,
sit like Ajax in his dumb retreat,
watch the wan sun take up heart again.
world of straw, vast, cavernous and wet,
lies about me—yet, not so,
all unpeopled, for a thrust divides
two straws lying at my feet, and lo!
snail with slowly groping hornlets slides
his damp jungle, lump of wrinkled jet,
with what hid intelligence he clasps
stem arid that, to what discovery glides!
here, he peers, now there with four-fold horn
his universe of dripping corn.
what enquiry are Ms courses set?
Mm what high romance does rain beget?
him what echoings of deity chime?
ill, what good, what version of space-time
his that circling his antennal “when”,
curving “where” he interrogates my world,
in wetness what in drought is furled?
he turns a philosophic mien
my mysteries. Snail, I do surmise
is but body makes you snail. If you
change with me the body, I hold it true
should this morning in the rainy skies
revelation see and, onward borne
the great seeking of all living things,
impatient with my four-fold horn,
end in watery joy my questionings;
find the meaning of my cosmic corn.
might from life the great conclusion draw,
And happy find God hidden in a straw.
Copyright © 2008 [Fen Tyler]