12 MARCH 1994, Page 27
Nothing Personal
Here, winter tricks us: sun and calm, small summer, to make the unsuspecting almonds bloom.
Then wind-stripped petals, snow to blight the bud.
Who sees the world like this is counted mad; the will of natural forces geared to harm is paranoia's construct: nature's grammar allows no place for unsuspecting trees, undressing winds, or snows that choose to freeze.
Yet that was once the way it worked: the storm was angry, and the friendly sun was warm.
To us, no longer primitive, nor mad, nothing good is offered, nothing bad.
Simon Darragh