Sunday, 26 May 2013

The Lime Street Naturalists

It's true what they say
About poems, nature, death and life. 
Pausing for thought whilst looking for 
Scientific heroes amongst rhythm of stones
The musical notes of poetic meter 

The names of my City churches muttered:
Some gone and half forgotten:
Saint Antholin, Benet, Dionis, All Hallows.
The people moved in death by 
A vigorous space needing City

The magpie approaches 
Drawn by my stillness
Looking for life under leaves
His glisten of blue-black-white
Like marble enlivened, shrieks.

The oblivious bee pauses 
Hovers and vanishes
A fleeting meeting of buzz and Ethel
Sweetness over Geranium robertianum
And earthly detritus

The squirrel scratches up the tree
Flickingly shy, peering at me 
Whilst other sounds bring the stones alive
The irony is I'm looking for naturalists 
And they're here, still, looking at nature

Written for the 16th Century Lime Street Naturalists who were moved to the City of London Cemetery in the 1900s.

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