Transfiguration


There is an oak on top of the hill
That we walked to just to see the land:
The timbered church of Little Stretton beneath the tower hills,
Caer Caradoc and the Long Mynd.

The sweep of valley daffodils,
And barley taking flight inside the wind.
Our faces shone with the sun
Or streamed with the rain.

This morning, the oak spreads out its strong-decrepit arms
As if waiting to be dressed in Spring.