U. A. Fanthorpe

Not knowing even that we're on the way,
Until suddenly we're there. How shall we know?

There will be blackbirds, in a late March evening,
Blur of woodsmoke, whisky in grand glasses,

A poem of yours, waiting to be read, and one of mine;
A reflective bitch, a cat materialized

On a knee. All fears of present and future
Will be over, all guilts forgiven.

Maybe, heaven. Or maybe
We can get so far in this world. I'll believe we can.

U A Fanthorpe

In memory of U.A. Fanthorpe, who died in April, Diamond Twig asked her partner, Rosie Bailey, if we could use one of her poems for August because, says Ellen Phethean, "Julia and I both loved her so much".

This is what Rosie Bailey said about Idyll: "I've been trying to think of the right poem, but it's not easy - I am fond of so many of them. Anyhow what about a short quite straightforward one like this? It was popular when it was put on the underground trains, so popular that someone was once caught trying to steal it.
... I see you have the precise 'reflective bitch' in your photograph of UA (she was called Shandy, previously owned by a burglar whose wife couldn't cope after he'd gone to jail)."

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Idyll was first published in Neck-Verse, 1992; © Rosie Bailey: used with permission.
Copyright of this poem remains with the poet's heirs: please do not download or republish without permission.