Photographs from last summer

I

The blossoms of bindweed

Strewn on Towton field like Meissen plates.

Delicate dirt; if I turn them,

Will there be crossed swords on their base?

II

Deer-prints point to the sea,

Sharp-stepped, firm-pressed, precise;

I follow, clumsy –

When I get there, they’ve been wiped.

III

On the road, a bumble queen knocked over –

Her hot fat fur throbs dangerous in my hand;

I enthrone her in a stateroom of red clover;

She restores herself – and populates a land.

DEREK TURNER is Editor of the Quarterly Review