Wandering
I can't remember who taught me
to wander aimlessly,
gazing at things which shine
of themselves.
Mine was a childhood
spent bowing
to emperor gum moths,
spider orchids, jewel beetles.
Perhaps an inner pressure
led me to watch
and simply wonder
as things emerged
to find their own true nature.
More poetry by James Charlton
Reviews of James Charlton's poetry
Anne Kellas, reviewing Luminous Bodies
David Kelly, reviewing So Much Light
(and Stephen Edgar's History of the Day)