Night-Poplars

Kind night, with your warms winds and intrusions, winding lanes and the sea, I can't taste the salt and can't remember to imagine I can.

Footsteps in the hallway.

The quiet silence of the lamp.

(there are silences that are not quiet, remember)

Words occur to me today; night-poplars.

A blur of memories, shadowy-raggedness above a hedge,

or hedges, around my grandparents house.

Dark and troubled skies.

Remembering rain.

Church spire Sunday afternoons.
Wish I could sleep there now.