in the quiet lightof mist morningbirdsong falls like rain condensationleaf gatheredand pouredfor the thirsty,the waiting,the listening – birdsong fallinglike rainfrom the trees.
high summer on a damp air on skin morning i had moved an armchair outside the front door to write because the house was sleeping and the light seeping through leaves impeccable. time passed unmoving while skinless in the warmth of the soft mist morning i could no longer feel where my body ended, where…