What a daunting pleasure it has been over the years
to sit in a studio and present you to the nation @bbc.co.uk.
To celebrate poetry. Seven buxom women abreast,
staggering and sliding on the ice-bound road.
The red wheelbarrow. A boy falling from the sky.
Dappled things, borogroves and runcible spoons.
The secret ministry of frost, full moons and little Frieda.
Rainbows and the liquefaction of Julia’s clothes.
To celebrate the joy of socks. Love in the back of vans,
sing the body reclining and the warming of her pearls.
The way we were and the way we will be. Growing old,
wearing purple, a joy to behold. And let us not forget
the vacuum cleaner and the Ford Cortina BS8 2LR.
More feel-good than Gielgud. Rhyme. I like that stuff.
Let us sleep now. To Poetry Please, a little momento,
some of your favourite lines stitched into a cento.