In this country house I had a dream of the city as if the thick yarrow heads had told me, as if the chokered dove had told me, or the yellow elder seeds had made me ask – and in the dream I went up to the dirty bus station and I saw the black side of the power station and as if the brown moth’s tapping at the window made me say it I said, do you still love me? And when I woke and went to the window, your tender voice told me: this is yarrow, this is elder, this is the collared dove.
