12 MARCH 1994, Page 27

Nothing Personal

Here, winter tricks us: sun and calm, small summer, to make the unsuspecting almonds bloom.

Then wind-stripped petals, snow to blight the bud.

Who sees the world like this is counted mad; the will of natural forces geared to harm is paranoia's construct: nature's grammar allows no place for unsuspecting trees, undressing winds, or snows that choose to freeze.

Yet that was once the way it worked: the storm was angry, and the friendly sun was warm.

To us, no longer primitive, nor mad, nothing good is offered, nothing bad.

Simon Darragh