Here, @ c. 51.51, -3.18, it's 12:15:50 BST
September rain
cold, I should be hibernating
tucked up, warm
but I have to paw the kitchen table
to get enough bits to smoke
and it's matchstick thin
not much of a hit
so I'm off to the shop
~ ~ ~
My god, there's a tree!
and it's running down the muddy lane
flapping, shaking
bits are falling off
twigs, leaves, acorn-type berries
now skeletal
dancing, writhing
Go back, add moon
add fingers of dark cloud
add war-time searchlights
– hard shadows that bruise
Too long sat by the fire
Too much green smoke inhaled
Drowsy, it's easy to burn
Inside falls out
Add stars
in clusters
stars, like solo, but clustered
as if lovers
lovers who burn logs and watch the unreal
15 moon-degrees per segment
lovers who break apart the hearth
take sunrise
into a new day