a chorus of cobwebs for my mother's birthday

still
loud shot
shock

had seen a black car but presumed walkers

that was an intent to kill shot

trees stay stiller
birds lower sound discreetly
fly off in sideways directions
as if avoiding main roads

moisture holds the ground together
sky eye colour gray
depth lightness

no one has appeared to claim the shot
and birds reclaim with gentle leaves
the space

one shot
no more

held
this place is held in a weather blip

then breeze drawing attention to hazel uprights, then some sorrel, one large tree across the field
and then all still
except a flashing swallow
a single bramble
two stinging nettles
wind picks out its own
a story of wind currents

I walk home
the black car still waits
and I wonder if the shot was the end of a life
not animal
and wait

straight down rain starts
more puddles
rain straight down taking the small leaves
rain with falling leaves
rain made form

there is a gate I always open
and I think I know who likes it closed
the gate goes nowhere


leading to a landscape

september 28

tractor din, duck
voice like warm ice slides over my ear from an insistent bird
climbing tractor
see-saw of high pitched joy of a laughing crow
go