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2022
6.196
14.vii.25
at the old hut circle
grass now where was human strife
poem is the map I make
it has these hills
the gates to lock
breathless climbs and summer sweat
steps to take
the yellow broom
pinks of bark and lichen grey
shade copse of birch
leaves turn
watch footing
wonder
how did they come here?
why, where did they go?
and the sheep all this while
the leafing undercrunch
a quern for grain to grind
this was a twigsthrow sky
eyes up, see clouds resting today
every view’s out to the day that was
each look-in’s this heart run
clouds inching on if you’ll stay
it was the sheep knew what they knew
they’re not telling
the underhat for summer
ask a wildcat where
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