At the Meeting Place by Geraldine Green




Geraldine Green is a creative writing tutor, editor and poet, with three poetry collections (Indigo Dreams Publishing) and four chapbooks. Her work is widely anthologised in the UK and USA.

As well as readings, workshops and a residential at Brantwood, this autumn sees her reading at two festivals: Borderlines Festival in Carlisle and the Kendal Mountain Literature Festival. In 2011 she gained a PhD in Creative Writing from Lancaster University. Geraldine is writer-in-residence at the Quaker Tapestry Museum, Kendal. She was born, and still lives, in Cumbria with her husband Geoff and their Border collie, Roy.

She blogs at Salt Road















At the Meeting Place,


(after Basil Bunting) 



Rain has stopped

but the rivertrail of snail across

the slate flagged floor of porch

shows snails, too, are on the march.


A robin takes a worm

from the wormbed of rainwet soil.

Swallows remain aloft –

sky, earth, wind, rain, soft


sweet scents of may reach

all round, extensions of each bud

bough bark leaf ground, perfume

from a thousand blossoms.


Ladies’ Smocks

Queen of the May


Fat Hen

Yorkshire Fog and

Grannies’ Bonnets, nod.


A Cabbage White pauses, stops

atop a ragged dandelion clock

Clouds fall in behind one another

across the dark of Holme Fell’s back.


A cough, a rustle, mice,

in wainscot scurry inside.

Summer’s dog days turn


feline as rain. A sign says:

‘Come in, all are welcome.’

Clouds race fells. Petalled light

ribbons half-sunk gravestones.


Across the fields half heard below

the call of Swaledales and birds,

the River Rawthey’s madrigal.



Geraldine Green