Warning: Illegal string offset 'lang' in /home/daffodil/davidselzer.com/wp-content/plugins/keyword-statistics/keyword-statistics.php on line 353

Warning: Illegal string offset 'keywords' in /home/daffodil/davidselzer.com/wp-content/plugins/keyword-statistics/keyword-statistics.php on line 354

Warning: Illegal string offset 'description' in /home/daffodil/davidselzer.com/wp-content/plugins/keyword-statistics/keyword-statistics.php on line 356

Warning: Illegal string offset 'lang' in /home/daffodil/davidselzer.com/wp-content/plugins/keyword-statistics/keyword-statistics.php on line 353

Warning: Illegal string offset 'keywords' in /home/daffodil/davidselzer.com/wp-content/plugins/keyword-statistics/keyword-statistics.php on line 354

Warning: Illegal string offset 'description' in /home/daffodil/davidselzer.com/wp-content/plugins/keyword-statistics/keyword-statistics.php on line 356
Sign up with your email address to be the first to know about new products, VIP offers, blog features & more.

Tag Archives Greenland

MARTIN MERE WETLAND, LANCASHIRE

Before the marsh on the coastal plain was drained –

to turn the dark, rich glacial soil

into the broad fields of market gardens,

selling fresh produce south to the port city

burgeoning daily from mouth to mouth –

the mere was vast, eight square miles and more.

 

Family groups wandered the margins –

to fish, collect eggs, snare birds. Settlements

became hamlets, became villages:

cutting the reeds for thatching, cutting the peat

for cooking fires from the ice age bogland.

share

WINTERING

Pink-footed geese are wintering on the marshes

west of here – flocks from Spitzbergen, Iceland,

Greenland. This late October morning

the garden is full of noises: the trimming

and shaping of hedges, bushes, trees,

the blowing and gathering of leaves –

and high cries as a skein flies eastwards

to feed on wheat stalks in the stubble fields.

 

The afternoon is disturbed by sirens –

not fire or police or ambulance.

There have been explosions somewhere north

we are informed –

share

THE LAST REFUGE

‘Two bald men fighting over a comb…’ José Luis Borges

Almost always, winds blew – over heath and sheep.

Seas swelled southward – to ice, minerals.

Mapped, the islands seemed like green spume: a tattered

standard blown west. That bleak solitude

was Arthur Ransome country – The Camp,

Tumbledown Mountain – naive, single minded,

like the Falkland Flightless Steamer duck…

Larger than Greenland, smaller than India,

Argentina did not exist.

share

WILDNESS

 August ’91, the Gulf War over, Kuwaiti oilwells  almost saved,

Kurds beleaguered, Marsh Arabs gassed…

 

From Schipol’s Duty Free, slow with tourists,

to Immigration at O’Hare, slow with Croatian refugees,

seemed like a long day with an early start…

 

But for icebergs still loose and multiplying

along Greenland’s uncompromising coast,

the  tawny, unmarked  miles of tundra,

the empty, unpeopled miles…

share