When our local football team Weekly defeated father's spirit, Father and I took to the hills, Drew comfort from their greater merit.
It made my childhood less banal, As did my mother's recitation: Nature and poetry combined Gave me a sense of re-creation.
One morning in a Sunday-meadow, I was aware I was aware: The flowers shone, the air was bright, I knew that I was happy there.
I learnt the flowers off by heart; Their look — though not their nomenclature. And so began my ill-informed But loving dialogue with nature.