…

in the greyness of a day
chasing trails of spittle’s spit
when the distant horses neigh
watch y’ step for goblin shit

as the brambles tangle knots
in this season’s odd unrest
fingers crossed & dot the dots
silent now the hornet’s nest

stirless stands & faces thee
in the woodland’s whisperings
on a leafless chestnut tree
as a chough above us sings

in the fields – the deed is ploughed
yet an ice cream van is heard
bursting through the wandered cloud
so the calendar is blurred

are these chimes within the mind?
is greensleeves still ringing here
will the garden hose unwind?
will these long nights disappear?

darting swifts between each blink
music moves beyond the swan
fuck the glugging kitchen sink
betty swollocks beckons on

squint & see within the vast
glimpses of a picnic’s gist
phantoms of the recent past
summer’s haunting autumn’s mist

…