Spring Dawn on Mad Mile

Spring Dawn on Mad Mile

There is no weather yet

To define the day in those terms

No brightness, or structural shadow, has revealed the line or flesh of anything

The wood, the river, the guesthouse

You could be dreaming of the curtain and the breeze across your back

Of the outdoors, the heat

Or the birdsong that appears to be everywhere

Reports upon a sense of the unfamiliar that this hour alone is burdened with

That spreads like leakage

That becomes a drone