Short Day’s Night into Dawn
wild night, wet, sheltered behind big bare tree,
sort of dawn through the petrified tree stems.
Tremble to sleep.
New place warm grey speckled yellow, yes, puce.
An apology of sunbeams.
Thirsty or what!
…rushing brook squabbling to the left: yes, down there.
Crazy notion of a little, silver trout.
No rod. Fashion one then. Can’t be arsed.
Have a splash and scoop and carry on.