Sunday, 3 February 2013


Through the window I see ghostly rain 
blown like a mad woman trailing veils across the lawn
under an exhausted sky;
contrary man-made wet and cold, out of rhythm,  
confuses birds and plants,  
dispirits us.
My mother’s old hibiscus plant, totem I have tended,  
is alight with amber flames for a day,
magnificat that leaves me cold.

Extract from At World's End © Pippa Rathborne 2013 written for and included in the anthology End of Days - A Collection of Poetry, to be published by Forward Poetry in April, 2013.