in the liquid light
as I gaze west, through trees,
over houses, over slatted-fence,
towards the waiting, unseen sea.
a foraging bird drops to my mown lawn
(taking note of my still form)
and pecks out her meal...and flies away.
My apple-tree bends towards heaven
new leaves unfolding;
surely it will be leaf-full by Easter!
so I’ll wait for the world to turn
yet another slight degree, for the lines
of golden light to lengthen towards me
and then end in gentle night.