Sun’s in me eyes
Lifts the colour right off
The sky and church roof (side view)
Are the same blue
There’s our Mary by the style
Her coat bleeding scarlet in the shade
Low winter sun
Erases strips off the mountain
Where the tree-shadows stand on
Bit of mystery there in these old trees
Zoom in and pan the rolling horizon
Hands and breath shaking with altitude
Ice in this here puddle shattered
Cows bow their heads to the sun
Shadows tracked mud at their feet
There’s meat on that alright
Their breath trails left by steam trains.
Old mill clock still going
Old quarry face
Old cobble still here
He stood still here
All these bankings full of heather
Railway line – disused
In t’garden outside t’window with our Mary’s pots:
The bird-bath
Where a wren perched to tap its beak against the frost
History outlived him
When the camera turns to him
The wind takes his voice
He stands still here
He does not split under the lense
As the old mill chimney did
Shattered in a puddle of rainbow static
He is only a pause
In film
A bird spotted
Flat-capped in a blue-coat
A sharp intake of Oh
As a blackbird escapes
the footage.
puttingthedogtosleep 