OPAL

Don’t touch an opal.

Just look in awe upon it:

it is a tear,

shed by the angel,

when he knew

that he had not committed even one

of many splendid mortal sins.

A CONFESSION

When I look at you

it dawns on me

that deep down,

at the sea-bed

there are monsters

of frightening beauty.

SUMMER

A red butterfly

is flying in the silken air

and – poppy after poppy – lights the poppies.

When the field is all aflame

It’s frightened; and it flies

and hides in the sun’s dark heart

A SHOCK

A bashful white butterfly

flits in the luminous air,

follows a sunbeam

and

reaches for the sun.

And lo and behold!

It turns black ,

stark black.