The solstice and overstatement of summer
has passed. The north's loop again evades
the finalities of extremis. Mists moisten air
in motion, crow-patch, breathing trails of fox.
In my ear's shell, near, the Atlantic whelms.
--
David Bircumshaw
Website and A Chide's Alphabet http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/
The Animal Subsides http://www.arrowheadpress.co.uk/books/animal.html
Leicester Poetry Society: http://www.poetryleicester.co.uk
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