Graham High

Transplant

Grey and silver. Gritty between the fingers. It almost might be some useful product, processed and homogenised for a purpose, nicely packaged in its bronze-effect jar, like a precious fine abrasive.

sharp wind across the moor–
the frosted ground
puddles under my knees

On the first anniversary of her death I am at her favourite piece of heathland struggling with the earth. I pour the gritty chips of ground bone and tooth enamel into the hard-dug hole, and cover it with the flowers and soil I brought from my own garden.

This calcium, dissolving slowly, will balance the acid earth. This shale of sharp fragments will provide a perfect drainage.

In my mind the small white flowers will bloom forever. They will be always at their best on February the fifth.

snowdrops over ash–
my brown topsoil hard to blend
with black upland peat

Published in The Unseen Wind: British Haiku Society Haibun Anthology 2009, Lynne Rees and Jo Pacsoo (Editors), British Haiku Society.