|Poems by Mollie Caird (1922-2000)
|February 20th 1962
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|Where the roe-deer couch in the coverts|
And the nightly badger lurks,
High on the shoulder of Wytham Wood
The winter forester works.
His immemorial sickle
Cuts briar and bramble back,
While a small transistor radio
Crackles beside the track.
The great birds over the heronry
Circle with slow grey pace,
But the forester's heart is with Colonel Glenn
Who strides like a god through space.