7 DECEMBER 1991, Page 31

The Beast to Beauty

I know how long it's been, Beauty, alone. I know by how the orchard's overgrown, By generations of increasingly Multi-coloured starlings, and by me. Not by my face, which stays Beast's one face, But by the dated scraps around this place Everywhere, the mornings blowing about. I know by my great vintages running out.

I know, moreover, how much time remains Before the unlikely footfall, sudden, tense, Across the markless gravel, and the knock, Unearthliness of luck staring at luck, And you approaching and approaching now. Beauty, I know all this, though hardly how.

Glyn Maxwell