An address from a lectern

Here ‘fore me, plinth of polish For the tree to rest on wood In flat sheets with fastened thoughts Set forth as marching words.   Heralded tonight and often They are by crest announced. We cluster! And applaud. It is a shared experience.   Now, to – I must address:   From nothing written from

Huckleberry Thing

Warning! Deep Water Green weed coats the pond. Catkins tiptoe past the curtain leaves here in the conservation area near the tennis courts. “Should you see anything particularly exciting please tell us about it.,“ requests the London Borough of Camden, Nature Conservation Section. “Well, I didn’t notice much except,” he turns, “You, delightful  thing.” (he