Gnomonic Verses - Brian F. Taylor - Bog

HERE (AND NOW)

Clusters of English "unofficial" roses
have climbed the fence to face the sun.
Each in its crimson finery supposes
that it, alone, is the only one.

Honeysuckle tangles with its vagrance
bramble and lavender, rose and gorse,
fills the still air with its golden fragrance
there where the steps run a wayward course.

Shamrock has camped with a fragile neatness
just where the foxgloves have unfurled;
the privet has flowered and its lemon sweetness
hedges the edges of this living world.

RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW

Imagine you have an audience.
(Which you have).
And people are listening to everything you say.
(Which they are).
And everything you say is being written down.
(Which it is).
And may be used in evidence against you.
(Which it will be).

Don't you wish you could be alone?