#937 - round the traps

 

31.vii.22

937

3.210

round the traps

a very general heresy

 

I seek the last sun

where days are longer

 

paddock of edges

all bellow and fence

 

the guess of adventure

the roar of the saw

 

I moss it in the green

 

winter and fur

too long in the fleece

 

glorious golden these insects shine

their weird trajectory’s

to prove a magic theorem

 

mud firming now for this while

a footsculpt

 

day bedecked to do

as usual of course

 

a leaf trap

 

climb from there

busy stillness

 

and trickle too

last of the creek

 

won’t we all of us vanish

in own style?

 

days from and days until

 

an almost hope here

now and then

 

I belong to the trees of this place

so earn the titular

‘companion of just here’

 

I’m all eyes up for the blue