(Evening Roost – Pagelsham Essex.)
There were sand martins :
just a few –
the other year they settled here in thousands
and no-one knew exactly whence they came.
Speculation : chooses what it will –
sandpits in Essex, Suffolk, or Norfolk ;
the steep-sided banks of our Anglian rivers.
They had more sand to come –
their sub-Saharan winters drew them on
towards the sun and other warming instincts.
The evening roost expanded :
the wires could not hold them –
strange staves – strange notations.
The music summer makes can overcome –
dirges, laments, threnodies,
all the valedictions and the strains
of mournful cellos.
beating their wings against the harvest moon :
that massive, molten, amber-full illusion
resounding : in the owl-light – like a drum.