John Barlow

filling the crinkle-cut
crisp packet
   winter beech leaves

Presence 10

   eating kumquats
    in the morning

Presence 8

the snowflakes—
a single star

Presence 8

the end of summer—
rain clouds and house martins

Presence 9

a bright morning—
bees darken
the blackthorn blossom

Presence 11

hanging out clean sheets
already in the folds
two bugs shagging

Presence 11

ebb tide
the winter sun
in every footprint

Presence 13

failing light
the last angler leans
into his cast

Presence 14

twist through starlings ...
distant rain

Presence 28

the sound of rain
in the moonlit trees—
your heart
beats against my chest
excited still

Presence 8

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