Of All I've Seen Waiting To Be Discovered Poem by Mark Heathcote

A spring of buttercups, when was that now
I saw in green pastures a golden jersey cow
a river meandering, swift-lashing and lush
where blue tit nest on passing, fell hush.

When their shells scattered pieces of sky
plucked treasured depths in a child's eye.
When did I last see a fire poker toadstool?
It's fiery-globule-head in a green whirlpool.

Radiant-light brims over a cherry-bark moth.
Is he not both moth and tree - life's froth?
Of all I've seen waiting to be discovered
the tench bubbles breaking, I savoured.

The nervous vole nosing silence ordinate
up through the willow trees rooted garret.
These and other things, I've remembered
a boy by the river I once wildly proffered.