In the summers of our forbears, where ‘poets had no mistress
But their muse’, the sphere has cast aside that agèd pearl,
Whereto all it finds in one’s summer is darkness,
And forgot love that introspects, becomes and furls.
The fern that withdraws and reaches in its ease;
How can such a gift be diseased?
The leaves’ natural growth isn’t bolted;
A new soil, climate or wind speed
Will round and dip its need;
The presence of company unnoted.
This fern will always return to its curled leisure,
The rose is an extra, a happy pleasantry and its own treasure.
And so through it all, there is myself and my own strife
Which solely I can sound, understand and scribe:
The joy of an inner life!
– Aloïs Frances Wood
Aloïs Frances Wood is a literary critic from London with an interest in poetry. Their poems are inspired by their cultivations in essay-writing, as well as by the meticulous and witty early modern poet, John Donne. The poetry they write is equally as methodical as their poetry criticism, with a focus on structure and conceits.
“Solitude’s Anamnesis” was shortlisted for the debut competition from the Where Ideas Grow Blog. The competition theme was ‘Growth.’