This one’s a freebie
lhude sing cuccu
what is waxing, not wax
but aught else
we ebb and ebb
in the false azure
reverdie is a vote-winner
spring lays down, uncoiled
little trepid goslings
mown down by motorist
knot-holes in a garden fence
the thigh of an aphid bristles
bees are nowt now
here trembling is a haunted iPhone
no-one cannot tell me
we are not not here
thawing Ribena for the curl’d tongues
of lapidary insects
perched in the spray-top
or furred like a peach
I have heard the crickets singing
each to each
awful as the feathers
on a satellite dish.
From: https://www.anthropocenepoetry.org/post/plain-song-by-tom-blake
Date: 2024
By: Tom Blake (19??- )