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down unwin's track
alison brackenbury
and the rain stopped. and the sky spun
past the hills' flush of winter corn.
the 1 strode out as though still young.
you walked. i almost said, last year
i saw a hare run with her young
just past the broken wall, just here.
two flew in circles. first, one rose
upon its great back legs. it boxed
at air. the second 2, then rose.
england has blackbirds, mice. to find
these strong black shapes makes the heart race
as 3 under icy wind.
boxing is courtship, failed. one broke,
tore past us to the rough safe hedge.
she crossed the sun. her colours woke,
ears black, back russet, earth new-laid.
her legs stretched straight. the late showers made
bright water fly from every blade.
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