Three seconds passed, another one dead,
I walked past violets and wind-flowers,
cowbind, eglantine, moonlight-coloured may
and ivy serpentine snaking as I railed
after the epiphanies were over,
reeled among white cups and clover,
flag flowers, riverbuds awaiting the hail
that will hail on oxslips, bluebells looking to stay
the west-blown cyclone, these galled hours
and phantoms, children, flustered in my head,
yellow, and black, and pale, and red.