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Slow as Grass

Slow as Grass

I'm growing patience as the cut grass grows
Blunt headed, stubborn, in a warm November,
Blunt where cut to last all winter but it grows
On, blunt headed. I am not yet patient as the grass,
Waiting the melt of mist that soaked it flat
Splashed by the feet of cattle into suns,
Hoof high. As the sun climbs the day dries.

Now elephant cloud teams drag behind them grey
Tarpaulin, evening. Riding it come children
Last seen trailing (like dressing gown cords) their dreams.
At dusk I hurl a ball with them, still waiting,
Pretending a day complete which is only ending,
Growing to patience as they will have to grow
Or mimic what seems day's busyness, but day
Is never busy, is as slow as grass.

from Something About (Carcanet Press, 2004), copyright © P J Kavanagh 2004, used by permission of the author and the publisher


PJ Kavanagh

P J Kavanagh Reading from his poems

1Dedication Poem

2Yeats's Tower

3The Spring

4On The Way to the Depot

5Perfection Isn't Like a Perfect Story


7November the First

8The Clapham Elephants


10A Single Tree


12Beyond Decoration

13Late Acknowledgement

14One Sentence, and Another

15A Ghost Replies

16They Lift Their Heads

17Minimal Prayer Suggestion

18Natural History



21In the Middle of the Wood


23Beside the Sea

24Slow as Grass


26Vox Pop



29Something About

Books by PJ Kavanagh