Ah well, I think, even the chestnuts are breaking,
there is a soft down upon the cry of birds,
and they slip covertly, with intent gentleness,
among the bushes;
life is full in the green ear
and brilliant with chance,
what of the mere grain blown out
and forgotten,
rotting or ripening in a shroud of grass?
This previously unpublished work is included in Laurie Lee’s “Collected Poems”, published by Penguin Modern Classics on 26 October
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This article appears in the 18 Oct 2023 issue of the New Statesman, War on Three Fronts