28 JULY 1990, Page 29

Rinsing

In the corded hollows of the wood leaves fall.

How light it is.

The trees are rinsing themselves of leaves like Degas laundresses, their forearms cold with the jelly-smooth blue of starch-water.

The laundresses lean back and yawn with their arms still in the water like beech boughs, pliant on leavings of air — In the corded hollows of the wood how light it is.

How my excitement burns in the chamber.

Helen Dumore