halftwo
Wird Batcher
The deafening colours of the wood:
Burnished brass, orange peels,
Caramel in copper, defying the grey.
The rude protrusion, the jut of fungus
Prods, like an oyster from the
Moon-pale skin of a birch stump.
Beyond in the stubble, and a field left fallow,
Autumn-leaf coloured Yellowhammers
Rise and fall from oaks
To disappear amongst standing stalks,
Calls tripping, while a hunch-backed,
Snake-headed Buzzard,
Eyes delving deep into the hedge,
Waits patiently for partridge edging ever closer.
And, beneath the bramble, fallen apples strew
The turned earth of a burrow:
Yellow baubles on coal-black cloth,
As a Blackbird sings a sub-song so quiet
It seems a mile off.
Burnished brass, orange peels,
Caramel in copper, defying the grey.
The rude protrusion, the jut of fungus
Prods, like an oyster from the
Moon-pale skin of a birch stump.
Beyond in the stubble, and a field left fallow,
Autumn-leaf coloured Yellowhammers
Rise and fall from oaks
To disappear amongst standing stalks,
Calls tripping, while a hunch-backed,
Snake-headed Buzzard,
Eyes delving deep into the hedge,
Waits patiently for partridge edging ever closer.
And, beneath the bramble, fallen apples strew
The turned earth of a burrow:
Yellow baubles on coal-black cloth,
As a Blackbird sings a sub-song so quiet
It seems a mile off.