A morning climb
To perspiration peaks
Chinks of chestnuts
Then gravity
To berries and buckthorn and breeze
And a trail of sterile smells
On smooth steel rails
Through stale green woods
Chalk castles and cuttings
And cracking green domes
The Channels sweet nothings
The bright and the height
And bamboo flight
Of clay curtained windows
Stationed words of light
And distant vision
Hiding in plain sight