Started on 19 Jul 201414 poems
Mocked by drooping
Feathered fan trailing
No breath of wind.
The sky is being squeezed of light,
Wrung out like a cloth.
In the lane with
Northern sunlight entices
Gentle hills into seas
Where companionable seals
Rip fish apart.
I’m dumb to leaves and prairie grass;
a million colors can't be named.
Wind conspires with
under the viburnum’s rain-dript leaves
there’s a battle being waged
for possession of the big wire
Pleading that they’ll save us much hard work
the motorcycle hustlers are insistent,
but we prefer
To a sudden
Evening mountains quietly
Encircle the valley,
Hiding in snow.
Pure melt water
Crows bore holes
Into the snow
With their beaks
And their blackness.
Garrulous choughs gather in the valley
As dawn etches rose and violet gullies
There’s too much noise
For Darwinian comfort:
As the robins bring grubs
To the bushes beneath
She sits in a spindly lane-side tree,
Plump and delightfully pompous,
The Thames flows towards its highest tide, gently
Lapping over its banks from Hammersmith to
I stand on tortured twisted rocks
Two and a quarter miles above
The surface of the sea they were