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

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