A Berkshire Miracle
I remember visiting the Blue Pool at
Stanford Dingley, the frost had risen
From the ground plucked to the heavens
By the bending Noon day sun
I was in a group I didn’t go singularly
There was Auntie Lovely
And Jock, who must have been
A postman I think, because he said
‘He’d caught a packet on Remy Ridge.’
Also in our company was
A dog with a mad eye,
And someone who called herself
The Rose of Vienna,
Along with several other people
Who even then, might
Have been dead.
Lolling behind, came the girl who had
Once tried to count the freckles on my arm.
I was the first one in,
The water was cold but
I didn’t cry, you see it was
So deep and dreamy,
If I could have drowned
There and then, I would have,
Where the Aspen trees whispered Kaddish.
© Bernard Pearson
