Birch trees catch the light,
Between telegraph poles,
The wire might be there,
But the wire I cannot see,
White trunk specks halfway up.
Alder hard to pick out, absent…
Hazel rush at the edge of wood,
In front a shoot of padded leaves,
Willow left behind leafing late,
A small leaved bush,
More twig than else.
Beech crown sprays drooping
High on a tree top line
I can see the Alder now, reflected …
Open brown trunks darker leaves
Not easy in the mix
A died back ash, tied black
Leaf hit by Tuesday week’s frost
A calamity for walnuts too.
Mid May, all this,
Among the canoring birds
Of the near meadows.
A sonogram one can assign
Segments to passerines,
Interspersed by crow.
This morning I am
Long lane watching
From my muses seat
No one walking in
Well on in a summer’s dawn.
Tranquil, cool, there goes a Fly
Inside the porch window
A portent of unexpected motion
Yet the long lane draws my eye
Between frames of this spectacle
Sudden, there goes a Bird
Sunlight strength in rushes
Over shadow of the house
There goes a Bird,
In a tree view far.
lichenfoxie 
I like this.
Saw Ciaran in passing the other evening and he said he’d spent the day with you and mentioned crawfish. I told him the only way crawdadddies would get my attention – would be steamed up in a pile with plenty of hot sauce. I hope they were awesome.
Also hope you guys are keeping well? We are Ok, if slightly worse for wear. I’ve been working outside quite a bit, and Bri has finished his book – it now sits patiently on an agents desk….
Feeling very scattered. No focus to speak of, and no fucks left to give. If any of this makes sense to you? Too many changes and shedding of skins – can’t remember which one I need to put back on.
Anyway, thanks for thinking to send this my way. It’s quite lovely. Dense. Somewhat lyrical, and opaque. Well done.
J
Sent from my iPad
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