The Uncertainty of the Moss

with four words from ‘Antony and Cleopatra’

by Lydia Harris

earth draws the moss into the dark
and out the far side but that’s not it

the moon over the moss sits
in the whaup’s beak but that’s not it

the moss knows the tilt of the ditch
each clump of its own body

it shivers the cotton grass heads
rattles the sedges  shines the kingcups

the moss traces the gorse
lighting up the night

clouds slide  smudge and blur the moss
there or not there the spider hurries

the bee eye-level writes lines   erases them  the lark
raises banners of song  stirs the standing water

but oh that’s not it