In High Nowhere now, a wind is blowing.
The dry, unripened acorns fall too soon
but tonight fresh rain is bending every frond.
Each dangles its bead of light. I lean on the parapet
and such is chance, the river spins me a kingfisher,
a sudden pulsing curve of peacocked flight.
In High Nowhere now a magpie lies
crisped among blackberries, dark claws clenched.
Its empty eye is clean and full of sun.
Its dulling feathers dredged with dander.
I lift it off the path, see all its layers of light, its
hollowed melanosomes left to glitter in the hedge.
In High Nowhere now I walk southwest
into the wind. Which hushes in the birches.
The open hill collects its crying lambs
re-gathers them, returns them to their dams
while hunched and dark erratics shed the wind
like heavy tail-turned beasts above the track
In High Nowhere now the tide is out.
I lengthen stride and jump a brackish stream.
High water’s hooked dark bladderwrack on barbs.
There’s flash of oystercatcher wings.
The oak woods dangle leaves above the swell
though salt cuts at their roots. A robin starts to sing.
Here are some of my ‘High Nowhere’ poems, these four having been published in Finished Creatures issue 5. The poems are part of my forthcoming third collection.