in the quiet lightof mist morningbirdsong falls like rain condensationleaf gatheredand pouredfor the thirsty,the waiting,the listening – birdsong fallinglike rainfrom the trees.
waking starless under a blanket of mist thickened sky – knowing my night was peopled by dream, busy with colour and the almost taste of something remembered that exists there – here in the mist crowded morning only the spider-webs, night written and condensed into form, are visible.