Dawn flocks
I heard a flight of ducks
or geese yammering they intruded
on my dream, sounded like
human voices a human voice
that cried help
I suspect in fact it is
a fox, that sounds like a child
crying close in the borage
Before I was woken by
the huge laugh of a crow so
near I could feel the
dampness of his
black morning feathers, hear
the thwump of his vanishing
wings that brushed my forehead
cold toes
going to the window I can see
in the first sun and the clean light
and still of morning still not
the yelping flock
in truth there are some gulls
they squabble over something over
the shimmering bristling
of grass beneath the yet
unmuddied sky still
fresh from the burning
cool of stars
I look for the fox
There is none
They die down
The many greens reveal themselves
