Half Forestry Commission            half not
I put my fingers into a bed of dried pine needles
scoop            I know what I'll find
a beak            bones            gammy flesh
catch my breath

The song in the woods helps me rest
notice            nothing            in particular
must be good for the eyes
drop myself to dry soil

I'd call this home
if the trickle of a nameless stream
didn't pull me

wash my hands
see the track descend to the village
walk again the meadow by Marford river
wet my socks            touch the sky
centuries chain back this morning

~ ~ ~

Flying kites
I like

I paint a big red heart on one
stand with my back to the wind
let out the string
tie the end to a tree

The feeder road for the M4
cuts the park in half
but way beyond
poking above the top of an Ash tree
is a bright yellow kite

It's not just me

~ ~ ~