Weekend reading
We wake to a mist
That clouds the river road,
Hovers over a field
Of soft-spun spiders’ nests.
Blackbirds beat and skirt
The trees, streak over hay bales
Spread out...
Madagascar was pulling out of Africa,
clumps of calcified ground ferried on water,
following the windward trail that produces
another year, row upon row of harbours.
Even to the man walking by...