in morning, early
from your pillow
windows were graphite
grey with close fog
and smells of damp soil
rotting fungus and grasses
threaded through openings
in the tattered screens
and under the sky
tractors were threshing
machinery tearing
noise beats a wooded slope
blackbird's trickled call: a stream
like pebbles slipped from folded hands
humid summer's breath unfolds you
the sun defers to leaves
©2013-14 Ravenna Taylor
