The Wild Common

In this wild common
Where the hush of the dark
Can rise from the stream,
Moss gathers and blooms
In the skin of the stones.

The wood is moving,
The shadows flutter,
I tell you a peep
Of a world always
Stripping out a green truth.

Glistening dew on
The coral fronds,
Life unwinds itself
And the moon rolls on,
Leaving trails of white.

— D.H. Lawrence

• DH Lawrence