#1.
The gold cover and
the world breathing birth to zero.
The weather bleached of haunt.
It’s now love, to decline.
#2.
Breath witness
of hare’s haunt, and sheep’s.
Fire now. Light me.
Don’t dim beside day.
#3.
Light’s lower rip to curtain
so I stood breathing the weather of hare and sheep.
If ever it’s still, inquisitive and bright.
#4.
Through eve, so
birth the barrow the fields.
Un-flowered on blether
need roused fingers and rise
brimming.