a sudden touch of wood
what of green the purpose of a lull.
all fixtures featured
battened down with leather for the leaves.
our birds asleep
deep enough in dreams
the fallen trees more opium than bark.
no questions come of this.
sad postures of the hip
the sudden grip of clarinet and worm
turning on a sixpence
on secondary burns more willing change.
a prisoner exchange.
the last tree hangs his washing on a peg
then sits to watch the colours run
to waters end. a circus for us all.
tall winds the bigger picture.
one-armed crawl on scriptures seldom sold.
a jut of final landscape
it\'s pointed nose to heather with a whip
in a window-box where my goldfinch came to rest
singing honey through the fingers of her heart
we will part once more
as strangers in the dark.
I have given you my everything
and you my love
have offered me your wings.
you have given me
a second chance to sing;