The steep hill on which my house stands
Required a chunk to be cut from it
And built into a flat terrace –
Flattish, at any rate; the cellar
Has a stepped and sloping floor.
The front terrace, they tell us,
Used to be cinder and gravel,
But now it is green with moss and winter grass
Growing in decades of compacted wormcasts.
I always think of Darwin's discovery
Of how worms increase the soil
When I go out there.
The dry stone wall along the terrace edge,
Preventing tumbles down the hill,
Has little 'doorways' all along its base –
Very visible at this time of year of slow growth –
Bank vole and wood mouse
Entrances and exits
From their little wall and terrace
Domain.
And on the other side
Where the steep bank falls away downhill,
The snowdrops are opening,
Crocuses peeping through,
And daffodil leaves are shooting up,
Gathering their strength
For flowering.