I am in the eye
of the dove sitting high, a silhouette
on the dark rising evergreen. The wind
which blew the morning washing dry
has left,
not even the birch sees fit to move, yet
look closely at the stillness, through
the mask of shade – drops are
falling.
A lone fluff of dandelion floats
in new currents unseen; a breeze,
faint and cooler, has arisen from
beyond the bare stripped fields,
autumn’s presence
whispering through the seeping
light of the year
© copyright David Barker 2014
Ciscography 