3 JULY 1964, Page 20

Wood and Windfall

The fleshy petal Shivers descendingly to Moor on the mirror of the wood; fingers of the breeze Detached it to feather - The sea of the room. A sudden light And windfall and stillness. Simple as The act of a good woman At the pool of her glass, the day dons Diamonds and drabness flashes. Flashes. Light-falls. Observe The lamps of, moons of, their festivals.

Wind falls. Observe That timber of the usual Which dreams in the rich yard and Sweetens with seasoning and Firms its grain into Hardwood, heartwood.

JOHN HOLLOWAY