Drape palls of fustian in the young-leafed trees;
Robins and blackbirds, vocal in their stealth,
Stalk verge and hedgerow in the heat-full breeze.
Like iodine swabs the thunderheads cohere,The crows go silent in their startled strut,
Hushed heat throws blankets on the rattling weir
And big-eyed raindrops pox a mud-hard rut.
With a crack, like the blood welt from a whip,Black-quarelled rain gallons the frothing earth,
The thick-fogged clouds, opaque as mine dust, rip
Thunder through the fir trees where jays take berth:
The down-swamp done, a lop-tongued iris lurchesTall, and day’s heat steams in the world-fresh birches.
===============© April 2014