Martin Lucas

   grey afternoon
the tapping of rain
         on my hood

Presence 9

winter clouds
   the first catkins’
         whiteness

Presence 9

a night of stars
   the footpath
     sparkles with frost

Presence 9

morning sun
the bright white
of distant gravestones

Presence 11

unripping the velcro     autumn rain

Presence 13

a fish leaping ripples the sunset clouds

Presence 15

after another
failure to communicate
green china tea

Presence 19

the wood breathes:
a leaf falling
into fallen leaves

Presence 22

shorebirds flying
to their high tide roost—
a field of asters

Presence 28

cliffs in mist—
the many directions taken
by white sails

Presence 28



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