The Alchemy of Being

Let's go she said,
let's grow. And so
you did on rattling bicycles. (Her
amulet eyes were bewitching that morning.)
Way down to the river, down to the

sanctum where
she whispered
this is the navel of the universe.
September's sun was lush like warm sea
against your body; unseen birds were

singing, birds
in love she
laughed but you had to be cynical
and ended up with all the wrong responses.
The river gushed. Your wine is a conduit,

she said, to
ease the pill.
A spoonful of sugar and all that.
Amongst waving wildgrass, and between
the beech trees and devilwort plants,

you took it,
waited, said
the world is such a beautiful place I'll
never leave, then plunged into splendour,
its splendid stupor all bliss and halcyon.