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ON WILDMOOR HEATH
Each blade of grass each leaf each tree
That I in their profusion see
That clothe the Heath and so adorn
With multitude enchanting form
Conveys a force dynamic drive
To hold, continue, so survive

The pattern blue-print may be drawn
On jot of double helix, born
Repeated, seen in unchanged way
In fossil image to this day
The question still to predicate
‘What looks at print to replicate?’

What looks, and sees what to create
Turn matter to its own dictate
Form molecules to living cast
And with intention unsurpassed
Make worlds as with conceit it would
Perceive and think: ‘now that is good!’

LIFE
And so: this thing that we call life
Could we dissect it with a knife?
Piece of organic chemistry?
That forms a fish, a bird, a tree
And urges them: ‘Hang on and strive!’
To persevere and stay alive

I never yet saw rock or stone
Get up and change itself alone
Nor make a self intended plea
To challenge growth of entropy
Yet smallest simple monocell
Can replicate and grow like hell!

But life sees what to duplicate 
Turn matter to its own dictate
Form molecules to living cast
And with Intention unsurpassed
Make worlds by choice and then it would
See them and think: ‘now that is good!’

SOURCE
What of this strange elusive source
I reference in this discourse
I’ll not assert detailed depiction
(Others may with deep conviction)
Yet aver it cannot be
Cause and effect concurrently

Might be no concrete ‘thing’ at all
No object: to be held in thrall
But entity of cause and voice
That is not tied except by choice
Esprit of life that moulds this Moor
That can withdraw and may restore 
Make worlds with self  belief it would
Perceive and think: ‘Now that is good!’

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