grey
silvered
stripes
vying
with
blackened
blue
sky
fan
as
tiger skin
from moon to you
and as
we
stand
beneath
our tree
and wonder
what alone
may be
the certainty
of morning
we wait to see
beneath that tree
if fern and fawn
and
tempting dawn
break
down
upon
the mourning
a bat
flies past
flies low
flies fast
a startling
in the
dawning
as snails
creep
on soft silk feet
a silvered path
'tween
slowly
blooming
boreen
