Morning lies along the hill and other poems

Today is blue like blue used to be

I could almost ignore the fields
pale as sponges, the exhausted trees
stunned but upright

Horses stand side-on to the sun
either asleep or watching steam rise
the whitish grass

Still as tables laid with cloth and bowls
of warm food, they don’t move a muscle
They don’t want to ruin it

Flowers are tougher
than they look. Crocuses push up
their soft torpedoes and daffodils yell at the sun

Building continues. Bony crow-nests
shake high up, twig and wing
loud on the sky. Trees will remember

It’s the beech trees gingerly
...